


A Guarded Heart

by CatS81



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Angst, Carolyn Whump, Douglas Whump, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-17 02:10:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4648263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatS81/pseuds/CatS81
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carolyn and Douglas have been in a secret relationship for a year.  When circumstances put Douglas in a dire situation, Carolyn must finally come face-to-face with the reluctant truth of how she feels about him....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Linguini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linguini/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** ‘Cabin Pressure’ sadly does not belong to me – all characters were created, and rightly belong to, the amazing John Finnemore.
> 
>  **A/N:** So, I’ve been struggling with confidence in writing lately – but I’ve taken on board the constructive criticism I’ve received and I’ve worked really, really hard on this, my first ever multi-chaptered fic for Cabin Pressure. I hope it’s an improvement on my previous pieces and I’d absolutely love to know what you think – I may be a sensitive soul when it comes to writing but constructive criticism is genuinely welcomed.
> 
> This fic would not have been possible without Linguini so I’d like to thank her publically – the idea for it was hers, she has been a fantastic beta-reader as well as a huge source of support and encouragement, so thank you very much :)
> 
> I’d also really like to thank the rest of the fandot for basically being lovely and picking me up when I was feeling thoroughly awful about my writing! The same goes (though most of them won’t read this!) for my ‘Waking the Dead’ family – I am massively grateful for all of your support, in writing and in everything *hugs*
> 
> So, that’s it, really – I hope you enjoy this, and I’m so happy I found this fandom.
> 
> X

Carolyn Knapp-Shappey awoke slowly in luxurious warmth, rising through the blissful fog of slumber as she became aware of her surroundings. She blinked partially awake in the soft amber light of the bedroom, drowsy beneath the thick eiderdown. In a languid feline movement, she stretched gloriously relaxed limbs, content to drift in a hazy limbo.

After a moment she heard him chuckle in amusement, the sound rich and low in the bones of his chest, and she groaned, pulling the duvet further up around her chin. “Go away,” she grumbled huskily, reaching out to poke his calf with her toe as his laughter increased.

“And a good morning to you, too. What a refreshing little ray of sunshine you are to behold.”

Carolyn yawned and turned over away from him. “Still asleep, you pillock.”

“Yes, I rather gathered that.”

She gave a wordless grunt, opening one eye as the enticing aroma emanating from the bedside table hit her. Pushing herself sleepily up against the pillows, she reached for the plate and held it towards her bed-mate in question.

“What’s this?” she asked, the last vestiges of sleep still wrapped around her vocal chords.

Beside her, Douglas Richardson rolled his dark eyes and appraised her across the top of his reading glasses, the newspaper he was reading rustling against the bedclothes. “Breakfast. You’re _really_ not at your best first thing in the morning, are you?”

“It’s…,” she broke off with a frown and squinted towards the clock to her right. “What time _is_ it?”

“Almost eight thirty.”

“Well, there you are, then. Practically the crack of dawn after a transatlantic flight.”

“And on a Sunday, at that.”

“Is that what all this is in aid of, then?”

He sighed in exasperation and reached for his own plate. “It’s breakfast in bed, Carolyn. Something I’m rather _partial_ to on a Sunday, as it happens.”

Carolyn took a large bite of her bacon sandwich and failed to prevent a small sound of approval at the indulgent flavour, deliberately ignoring his snort of amusement. “There’ve been other Sundays.”

Douglas shrugged his broad shoulders in a gesture of nonchalance, and spoke around a mouthful of his own sandwich. “Indeed there have.”

“Anything particularly special about this one?”

“Does there need to be?”

“I suppose not.”

“There we are, then.”

They ate in a companionable silence for a few moments, and Carolyn watched him as he continued to study his newspaper against the backdrop of the duvet in apparent complete comfort; their easy domesticity never failed to surprise her, even though it had been more than a year since they had begun down their current road. 

At times her own acceptance of their ready familiarity beyond the physical alarmed her; there was a nagging suspicion in her heart that she was in far deeper than she could control, causing her anxiety that contrasted sharply to the contentment she had begun to feel over the last few months. They had fallen almost by accident into what she had grudgingly begun to accept was a monogamous relationship; opportunities with other people had been spurned in favour of spending more time together, their nights transforming into mornings and then slowly, delicately to afternoons and evenings. It continued to astonish her that she had allowed the progression at all, that she had acquiesced the first time he suggested she stay for breakfast, the first time he proposed a home-cooked meal, the first time his large, gentle hands had teased the tension from her neck. She had, up to the present, managed to separate her physical needs from her emotional ones in a ruthless compartmentalisation, but somehow the two had become intertwined, the lines becoming increasingly blurred.

Presently she placed the empty plate back onto the bedside table, the hunger she had been unaware of in slumber now satisfied, and she reached in gratitude for the steaming mug of tea, sliding towards him in a bid to share his paper, allowing him to wrap an arm around her and press a kiss to the top of her head.

“Did that meet with the approval of madam’s discerning palate, then?” he inquired, stretching to retrieve his own mug before settling back beside her and drawing a large mouthful of tea. 

She looked up at him, attempting a glare. “And what if it did?”

Douglas shook his head in disapproval. “You’re still looking for the ulterior motive, I take it?”

“Well, of _course_ I am. Since when have you ever _not_ had an ulterior motive?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawled, his fingers beginning to stroke the skin of her waist beneath her pyjama top. “Perhaps since I decided to defer to your senior age and weaker constitution…?”

“Ha ha,” she rebutted, disdain dripping from each syllable. “Let’s see how funny it is when my tea _mysteriously_ ends up in your lap, shall we?”

“Or perhaps since I mistakenly thought that getting up and making breakfast might afford me five minutes’ peace and quiet…?”

“You’re on thin ice, First Officer moron. Very thin ice indeed.”

“Or perhaps,” he continued, his voice sinking into a deeper, huskier register as he relented. “Just _perhaps_ since I thought I might take the opportunity to spoil you after a long and stressful flight; will that do you?”

She was quiet for a long moment, allowing his sentiment to filter through her consciousness and come to rest in the plains of her heart, warmth spreading through her chest despite the flicker of panic at his insinuation. “It will,” she replied in a mild tone, ignoring his gentle reactive chuckle, and she sipped from her tea as she edged closer towards him, her cheek settling against his chest.

“So,” he murmured into her hair after several moments had passed, seeming to revel in the softness of her body flush against his, the peaceful stillness of her limbs as she rested at his side. “Any preference for how to make the most of this most coveted day on the ground, then?”

Carolyn rolled her eyes. “Says he who would perpetually rather be in the sky?”

“Not quite _perpetually_ ….”

“Close enough.”

“Well, not today, obviously.”

She shifted beneath the duvet and drained her mug, struggling to sit up against the headboard. “As it happens, Douglas…I really should think about going home.”

He raised an eyebrow in query. “Oh?”

“Given that I haven’t actually set foot in my own house since we landed.”

“Won’t Arthur just assume you’re with _Herc_?”

She shrugged, steadfast defiance dampening the slight jolt in her chest at the mention of his long-time friend, the subtle stress on the Captain’s name that signified his objection. “Well, naturally. But, even so.”

“He’s still convinced by that little white lie, then?”

“You mean the colossally extravagant _fabrication_ that I’m…?”

“It was your idea, Lyn; not mine.”

She paused, forcing herself to ignore the hardened edge to his tone. “It makes for a convenient cover story, does it not? Given that the suave and charming Captain Shipwright….”

“ _Please_.”

“…was in fact more than a little interested in taking me to the opera.”

Douglas’ expression was guarded and impassive. “You _could_ have taken him up on it….”

“Oh, don’t be absurd. You know I _detest_ opera.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

She grinned at the irritation laced through his baritone and reached for him, pressing a languid, thorough kiss to his mouth, determined to reassure him with action in lieu of words. “You’re a clot,” she purred, his groan of disappointment as she pulled away causing tiny tremors of desire to cascade through her blood.

“Ah, but I’m _your_ clot,” he corrected with a gentle growl, brushing his lips to hers and smiling as she shivered. “Which is precisely why this pretence about you and Herc is so _utterly_ ridiculous.”

She huffed out a sigh as the mood between them sobered anew. “Douglas….”

“Not to mention completely unnecessary.” His own sigh matched hers for frustration. “It’s been more than a year, Lyn.”

“And your point is?”

“My point is…that the sky is not going to fall in if we dare to admit to the world that we’re….”

“That we’re what?”

“How would you like me to phrase it?” He threw her a scathing glance. “I’m assuming the r-word is still banned?”

“Well, why does it have to have a label?”

“Because things generally do.”

She exhaled once more, the breath shuddering from her lungs. “Look, I’m not saying we can _never_ tell people….”

“Oh, _good_. Because, you know, at some point, I might actually like to inform my _daughter_.”

“…but let’s face it: it’s taken Martin _months_ to stop behaving like an uncomfortable teenager around the two of us. I don’t want to upset the apple cart now that things seem to have _finally_ settled down again.” She shrugged in an attempt at nonchalance. “If I haven’t corrected his assumption that I’m seeing Herc, then so be it.”

“He’s an _adult_ , Carolyn. He’ll be fine.” Douglas inclined his head in pointed disagreement. “As, I have no doubt, will Arthur.”

“Of _course_ he will. That doesn’t worry me at all, as it happens.”

“So…?”

“ _At some point_. That’s what we always said.”

“Yes, we did. Though it never occurred to me that we might be talking in decades.”

“Don’t be stupid; I….” She broke off as her mobile gave an insistent chirp from the bedside table, and stretched to reclaim it, groaning as she acknowledged the message. “Mr. Alyakhin’s PA reminding me about Friday.”

The lines around his mouth set in a scowl. “We’re not really going to go to that, are we?”

“What choice do we have? He’s _gifted_ us four tickets and he’s paying for our hotel rooms.”

“Why?”

“Oh, it’s some charity thing or other. He wants to introduce me to more of his cronies.”

“But why are the rest of us being subjected to it?” he complained. “It sounds ghastly.”

“Oh, I agree. In spades.”

“And yet…?”

“Look on the bright side, Douglas: free food, free drink and a plethora of wealthy women for you to smooth-talk all night; what more could you possibly want?”

He gifted her a wolfish grin, dark eyes twinkling with a playful spark. “I could think of _one_ thing.”

Carolyn feigned a glare. “I’m sure you could.”

“In fact I could actually think of _multiple iterations_ of that one thing, if we’re being specific.”

“You are _such_ a….”

“Care for a quick demonstration?”

She held his gaze, achingly tempted by the gravelled proposition though she made herself raise an eyebrow in his direction. “ _Quick_?”

“As quick as you like.”

She captured his mouth again, though drew back before it could escalate and patted him gently on the chest. “I need to get up.”

“Oh, _Lyn_ ,” he growled, his fingers closing about her wrist, and he chuckled as she groaned at her unintended double entendre. “You and me, both.”

“Too easy?”

“Much. You’re slipping.”

“I must be,” she conceded, pushing away from him and swinging her legs over the side of the bed, wriggling her toes in the deep pile of his bedroom carpet with satisfaction before rising to her feet.

She was aware of his eyes on her as she made her way across the room towards the en suite, of his raised voice as she stepped over the threshold and made to close the door. “As to our original discussion re this continued secrecy farce…?”

Carolyn peered back around the door jamb, her features drawn in a tight frown. “I thought that subject was closed?”

“It’s never closed. As well you know.”

“Well, it is for today.”

His sigh was emphatic, broad chest rising and falling in consternation, and she watched as he ran a hand roughly through his hair. “Carolyn….”

“I’m going in the shower,” she insisted before he could continue, retreating back inside the bathroom and shutting the door behind her in a rapid, fluid motion.

Once inside its sanctuary she released a terse breath into the stillness, eyes closing against the maelstrom of emotion in her chest, his frustrated words replaying in her mind. She was well aware that she had no concrete answer to give as to why it was vital for her to maintain their secrecy, could offer no reasonable explanation or placation. 

She had a worrisome suspicion that it was in large parts down to fear, of admitting the extent of her feelings for the insufferable man whose bed she had been sharing for more than twelve months; but that notion was unwelcome and she dismissed it immediately. _What rubbish, old girl_ , she told herself, reaching into the shower to start the cascade and forcing unwilling fingers to undo the buttons of her pyjama top. _You’re not scared of anything. It’s simply not the right time. What good could possibly come of shouting from the rooftops about something so personal? We’re absolutely fine as we are. Absolutely fine_. With a determined nod she pushed the agonising denial to the pit of her stomach and took a resolved step into the comforting warmth of the water.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

*****WARNING*****

  
Just feel I should warn you that this chapter contains adult material which is fairly explicit. If this is not your cup of tea, feel free to skip over it – it shouldn’t really affect the plot, in any way, shape or form ;) Thanks, chaps!

Also, this is probably really obvious, but I just realised I forgot to mention that this fic is set in the same (alternate) universe as ‘A Time & A Place’ and ‘A Turning of the Tide’ :)

* * *

Carolyn propped her chin against her hand, her elbow resting atop the elaborate table, and she drew a deep breath of satisfaction. She had been reluctant to attend the charity fundraiser, the prospect of spending an evening being paraded in front of Mr. Alyakhin’s nouveau riche completely unappealing, but as the event had progressed she had found enjoyment beginning to creep in unbidden. The food had been spectacular, the drink liberally flowing, and the surroundings opulent, and Carolyn had found her blood pressure starting to reduce before she realised it. From his seat at her side, Douglas was saying something to Martin across the table, though she was content to merely follow the strains of his velvet voice without paying attention to the words themselves, her pulse quickening as his tone reverberated through her bones.

“There’s a chocolate fountain! An actual _fountain_ of chocolate! It’s _brilliant_ ,” Arthur enthused as he took his seat once more at the table, placing his laden plate onto the surface, his actions bringing Carolyn out of her reverie. “There’s fruit, marshmallows….”

Carolyn groaned from her seat opposite to her son, and took a large sip of champagne. “Oh, _please_ tell me you avoided the strawberries, Arthur. I do _not_ want to have to make an emergency trip home for the EPI-pen.”

“Of _course_ I did, Mum.” He grinned and placed a second plate before her. “But I did bring some for you.”

She smiled in ready fondness, warmth spreading through her chest at his characteristic kindness. “Well, thank you, dear. That was a very sweet thought.”

Arthur scooped up a piece of pineapple before settling back to survey the extravagant room. “This is _great_ , isn’t it? And to think it’s all for charity too.”

“To say nothing of the _immense_ networking opportunity for Mr. Alyakhin, and the _huge_ potential for him to further line his pockets.” Douglas’ deep baritone was typically sardonic and relaxed.

“That’s dreadfully cynical,” she reproached, affording him a sideways glance and feeling her heartbeat increase as it had done all evening at the sight of him resplendent in black tie.

The First Officer flashed a rakish grin. “Would you expect anything less?”

“It’s for _charity_ , Douglas,” Arthur re-iterated before Carolyn could reply. “What are you going to bid on at the auction?”

“Maybe the flying lessons?” Martin piped up from across the expanse of the table, his pale eyes twinkling with mischief in the muted candle-light of the room.

“Sir’s wit knows no bounds,” Douglas shot back.

“I think flying lessons would be _brilliant_ ,” Arthur effused, raising his chin slightly to address his mother. “Can I bid on them, Mum?”

“ _No_ , Arthur.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, you’d be bidding with money you don’t have….”

“It depends, though, doesn’t it? Maybe no-one else will want them and they’ll go for a really, really small….”

“…and for another, if you want flying lessons, all you’d need to do is ask Tweedle-dum or Tweedle-dee here. I’m sure they’d be more than happy to oblige.”

“Yes; _Or_ ,” Douglas interrupted quickly, cutting through Martin’s sounds of protest and Carolyn’s responding chuckle. “Why don’t you ask _Herc_ , Arthur? He’d absolutely love it; don’t you think so, Carolyn?”

Carolyn sobered in an instant and glared at him, irritated by the amusement etched into every contour of his face. “I’m sure I could ask him, at the very least.”

“Where _is_ Herc tonight, anyway?” Martin asked with a frown as he took a large draw from his wine glass. “I thought you were bringing him…?”

Carolyn gave a sharp shake of her head, supressing a gasp at the sudden feel of a palm atop her thigh beneath the table. She drew a slow breath to re-establish her composure, not daring to look at Douglas as she tried for a cutting, “We were only given four tickets, Martin. Four tickets, four people at MJN; it’s very simple maths, even for you.”

“I just thought you might have made Douglas and I toss a coin for it or something so you could bring him….”

She shrugged, the delicate midnight blue shawl adorning her shoulders slipping with the motion, as she forced herself to ignore the agonisingly pleasant sensation of Douglas’ hand caressing ever higher along her leg. “Anyway, he’s not in the country. Antwerp, I think it is.”

“Oh, really? Couldn’t he have swapped with someone? I mean it’s not like there’s a shortage of pilots at CalAir, is there? There can’t be! It’s a decent-ish size, and…”

Carolyn bit hard against the inside of her cheek as Martin’s words became a muffled haze, distracted by the rush of arousal through her blood as her lover’s dextrous fingers now traced intimate circles across her inner thigh, his hand warm through the silk of her dress. She risked a brief glance in his direction, absorbing the neutral expression as he focussed his attention deliberately towards Martin, the workings of his fingers in exquisite contrast to the outward nonchalance. With a silent curse, she gripped his wrist beneath the cover of the tablecloth to still their determined ascent.

“Well, no,” she replied, cutting off his line of questioning whilst simultaneously digging her nails into Douglas’ skin as he began to twist free of her clutch. “But this was more-or-less arranged at the last minute, Martin. Herc might be a Captain but even he doesn’t get to chop and change his shifts on a whim.”

“Even if he smelt a freebie?” Douglas inquired, turning his head to look at her as his hand escaped her grasp to touch her anew, fingers dangerously close to the juncture of her thighs, dark eyes dancing as they locked with hers.

Carolyn’s gaze was withering, even as her body threatened to betray her. “It’s _not_ a freebie,” she retaliated with force. “I’m expecting all of you to put your hand in your pockets, and if Herc was here, the same would apply to him.”

“I was just surprised, that’s all,” Martin said with a one-shouldered shrug, his words partially slurred with alcohol. “I mean, he’s your boyfriend, after all….”

“He is most certainly _not_ my boyfriend.” Carolyn’s tone was acerbic, and she drew a subtle breath as Douglas squeezed her leg with purpose, the pressure of his palm wonderfully proprietary.

“Isn’t he?” Martin’s frown was one of drawn confusion. “What is he, then?”

“Oh, for goodness sake, Martin; you’re drunk!”

“I’m not _that_ drunk,” the younger man protested. “And I only asked the question.”

“And I’ve answered it: end of story.”

“ _So_ ,” Douglas announced, withdrawing his hand with an abrupt flourish and forcing her to bite back a whimper at the sudden lack of contact. “If that’s the end of the Spanish Inquisition….”

“It was a _reasonable_ question! I was only….”

“…are you dancing, Carolyn?”

He had risen and she looked up at him for a brief moment, unable to prevent a slight smile as she did likewise to stand at his side. “In that this is a dinner- _dance_ , Douglas….I think it’d be remiss of me not to, don’t you?”

“Then by all means let me introduce you to the delights of being turned around the dance floor by a master.”

“Oh, lead on, then, Fred Astaire.”

She ignored Martin’s snort of doubtful incredulity and followed Douglas towards the dance floor, grateful for his chaste hold on her waist, his hand enclosing hers as he began to move.

“Well,” she began after several moments had passed, their bodies swaying in unison to the gentle notes of the jazz band. “That was….”

“A _stupendously_ big turn-on?”

Carolyn rolled her cerulean eyes and clicked her tongue in disapproval at his obvious glee. “Try ‘stupidly risky’.”

“ _Wasn’t_ it, though?”

“What on earth possessed you? It’s not like you can even blame the drink.”

He shrugged. “All that talk about Herc….”

She raised a disbelieving eyebrow at the edge to his tone. “You’re not _jealous_? You were the one to bring up his name in the first place, hoping no doubt to spur Martin on!”

“Of a _pretend_ relationship? Don’t be absurd!”

“What, then?”

Douglas’ exhalation was soft. “I was just trying to draw your attention subtly….”

“ _Hardly_.”

“…once more to the utter nonsense of this fallacy.”

Carolyn’s sigh was one of infuriation. “Not this again, Douglas.”

“You just lied through your teeth about the reasons why your assumed boyfriend couldn’t attend tonight. Just stop for a minute and think about how ridiculous that sounds.”

“It’s called maintaining a status quo.”

“I want to kiss you, Carolyn.”

She swallowed hard, desire ricocheting through her at the understated intensity of his declaration, the tiny circles his palm was tracing in the small of her back. “Don’t you _dare_ ,” she made herself command him harshly. “I’m deadly serious, Douglas.”

“I want to be able to stop holding you like we’re in a Victorian novel and….”

“I’m not getting into this here….”

“…and quite frankly I’d like to be able to share a hotel room with you without anyone asking questions or batting an eyelid.”

“Am I not speaking in English, Douglas? _Not here_.”

“Because the reality is that no-one _would_ bat an eyelid; you do _know_ that, don’t you?”

“Are you joking?” She looked at him askance. “Martin would have an apoplexy.”

“Well, he would if I dragged you upstairs _now_ , certainly.”

“Well, then.”

“But if the actuality of you and I was a commonly-known _fact_ ….”

“But it _isn’t_ ; that’s the whole point.”

“It could so _easily_ be, is the whole point.”

Carolyn blew out an incensed breath. “This is getting us nowhere. I told you I’m not willing to discuss it here, and that’s that.”

“And you get the final say, do you?” He squeezed her infinitesimally closer, and she felt her breath catch in her throat despite herself. “So what would you do then if I _did_ kiss you? If I threw hypothetical caution to the theoretical wind and simply…?”

“I would literally punch you in the throat. Without a single ounce of restraint; and that would be the end of this nonsense, once and for all.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “And by _nonsense_ , you mean…?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, let’s just _dance_ , Douglas. Don’t let’s ruin a perfectly civilised evening with….”

“Oh, far be it from me to introduce a rational sense of….”

“I’m being _perfectly_ rational….”

“You _aren’t_ , though. What you’re proposing to continue makes no _rational_ sense whatsoever.”

The music came to a halt, the muted notes of the trumpet dying away in an unhurried climax, and the couples on the dance floor broke apart to politely applaud. Carolyn felt herself released from his hold, steadfastly ignoring the sensation of his eyes boring into her as they stepped apart, her attention fixated on the musicians across the room.

“Well, thank you for that _unforgettably_ pleasurable experience,” she intoned dryly as the band began once more to play. “Martin’s Spanish Inquisition had absolutely nothing on yours.”

Douglas heaved a sigh into the space between them. “I’m going to the bar,” he announced obliquely, and she felt a stab of guilt at his flat despondency. “Can I get you anything?”

“Glass of Malbec, if you’re going,” she replied, unable to stop herself from catching his hand as he made to move away. “Douglas….”

“Malbec it is.”

She frowned as he withdrew from her grasp and strode away from her without a backwards glance, her gut twisting in self-directed recrimination. Their argumentative exchanges were an integral part of their dynamic , yet her brutal dismissal of his concerns over their future were clearly affecting him, no matter what she tried to tell herself. 

It irritated her that she was so perturbed by the effect her attitude was having on him, by the hurt he concealed just beneath the surface each time the subject arose. _He wants to stop pretending that all you are to him is a colleague and a friend_ , murmured a traitorous voice from somewhere within her subconscious. _He wants to profess that he…._ She stopped the thought with a monumental effort, unwilling to examine it further, locking it into a stringent mental box as she forced her feet to walk back towards the table, arranging her features into a sculpted mask of neutrality as Martin raised his hand to greet her anew.

* * *

Carolyn relaxed against the delicate softness of the pillows, luxuriating in the cocoon of her hotel dressing gown with a warming sip from her tea. She had made her excuses more than an hour previously and retired to her room, grateful to slip off her shoes and shrug off her gown in favour of the comfort of her nightdress and bathrobe. Absently, she reached for the television remote, groaning as she was interrupted by a gentle knocking. Reluctantly, she rose and padded towards the door.

“Good evening, madam,” Douglas drawled, his broad frame leaning against the jamb. “Did you order room service?”

“No,” she snapped, though she pushed the door open further and stepped back to encourage him to follow her. “And I think you’ll find it’s morning now.”

He chuckled as he crossed the threshold in her wake, closing the door behind them and moving to settle beside her on the bed. Without a word he undid his bowtie and allowed it to hang at his collar, his fingers unfastening the first few buttons of his shirt.

Carolyn looked across at him and frowned, her eyebrows knitting together in defence, her tone dry. “I wasn’t altogether sure you’d decide to _grace_ me with your presence….”

Douglas gave an expansive shrug as he leant back against the headboard. “It was a foregone conclusion….”

“Was it?”

“Of course.”

“Hm,” she intoned, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “The last time I saw you, you were being _royally_ regaled by some very attractive young thing in a dress so tight I actually wondered if it was a second skin….”

“Rubbish,” he dismissed, his hand slicing the air in emphasis. “She was young enough to be my daughter.”

“Even so.”

He quirked a thoughtful eyebrow as he regarded her, though she was well aware she had failed to hide the bitter edge from her tone, and the possessive notes filtering through her words. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”

Carolyn scoffed. “ _Please_. Now who’s talking rubbish?”

“Most definitely you.” He moved towards her, his fingers drifting to caress the feathered softness of her bathrobe as it covered the length of her thigh, dark eyes shining as he inquired, “Do I take it Cinderella didn’t enjoy the Ball, then?”

Carolyn threw him a scathing sideways glance. “Are you wittily implying that I’m less-princess, more-pumpkin?”

“Oh, _no_ ,” he replied, features creasing in an amused smile. “Fluffy dressing gowns _definitely_ do it for me.”

She pushed his hand away and reached once more for her tea. “Hilarious.”

“Though I did marginally prefer you in the silk number, on balance.”

“Do you know, Douglas,” she responded tartly. “I’m not even _remotely_ interested.”

He gave a throaty laugh, his palm negotiating the layer of her robe and beginning to stroke the bare skin of her leg. “Well…let’s get into bed and see if I can rectify that particular situation, shall we?”

She tutted, though felt her heart begin to thump harder at the sensation of his touch and his suggestion. “It’s one o’clock in the morning.”

“And your point is?”

She sighed, even as she allowed him to prise the cup from her fingers and place it onto the table beside him. “Do I take this to mean you’re no longer quite so vexed by my…?”

“Good Lord, no. I’m still just as vexed. Vexed and _perplexed_ , would perhaps be more accurate.”

“And, yet…?”

He exhaled softly. “Look, you made it quite clear that you weren’t prepared to discuss it….”

“Despite your annoying efforts to the contrary.”

“Despite those, yes.”

“Well, I’m not.” She eyed him with suspicion despite the mildness of his tone, even as he continued to caress her thigh. “And don’t think for one _minute_ that by coming here in the middle of the night and trying to seduce me it will make the _slightest_ difference to my stance, Douglas.”

“I didn’t even think it for a _second_ , Lyn.”

She held his gaze, registering the mirth in his eyes that was hiding a deeper turmoil, the stalemate over the status of their relationship causing a painful twisting beneath her ribs. Turning towards him and allowing him to pull them both further down the bed, she made herself dismiss it.

“Shall we call it a temporary truce, then?” she asked, stifling a moan as he kissed her, his lips teasing hers and lingering for a mere moment before withdrawing. 

“Fine by me,” he replied with a crooked smile, his fingers moving to unfasten the belt of her gown, and she was gratified by his sharp inhalation as he registered the black satin beneath, the deliberate accent of her curves. “ _Christ_.”

“Still prefer the bathrobe, idiot?”

He inhaled raggedly and ignored her, sliding one palm across her ribcage before enclosing the generous swell of her breast, his thumb brushing her nipple and causing her to gasp at the answering jolt of arousal, the breathless sound disappearing as he captured her mouth with his. Within seconds he was kissing her with a fervent passion, his tongue slipping across hers with a familiar and practiced ease, her body responding with an edgy, throbbing pulse of desire. She reached up to caress his face, the rough sensation of his stubble heightening the electricity arcing between them, and she felt him groan against her mouth, his hands pushing the dressing gown down her arms before discarding it.

For her part, Carolyn’s fingers had moved to slide his bowtie away from his collar before beginning to unfasten the remaining buttons of his shirt, untucking it from the waistband of his trousers, and affording her free access to the expanse of his chest. Douglas’ hungry mouth had moved to her throat, sensuously kissing his way to her collar bone and then lower, his teeth dragging her nightdress away to allow his tongue to lap at her breast, before supplying the gentlest of kisses to the soft curve of her stomach.

She stretched down to grasp at his head, and heard herself moan unashamedly as his tongue located its target, shards of intense pleasure shooting through her veins as he applied the most intimate of caresses. 

“Don’t,” she managed, at once gripped with a ruthless pang of self-consciousness even as her body throbbed beneath his ministrations. “I….”

“Let me,” he growled, the words rasping from his throat before dipping his tongue to taste her once more. “Jesus, Lyn…just _let_ me….” 

She was lost as he continued to worship her, all remaining thoughts obliterated as his tongue drove her higher, her fingers gripping hard against the sheets as she fought every instinct to press herself wantonly against him. She cursed in frustration as he brought her to the edge before retreating over and over again, her body fruitlessly chasing the release that he was denying her. Ignoring his arrogant grin she grabbed at his hair and pulled him back towards her mouth. 

“Don’t tease,” she demanded before he could kiss her again. “I’m not in the mood, Douglas.”

“Commands madam patiently,” he replied with a smirk, though his breathing became notably more laboured as she reached to trace the lines of his erection with her fingertips. “Lyn....”

“Turnabout’s fair play,” she remarked, unhooking his belt and undoing his zip before forcing the material of his trousers down his thighs, drawing her fist about his thickness and grinning wickedly as he gasped. “Et tu, Douglas?”

He groaned as his mouth found hers anew, and she gave herself over as she continued to stroke him through his underwear, smiling as he raised his hips to allow her to remove the final layer of clothing. She felt them moan in unison as they reached for each other again, eager fingers stroking against hard, smooth lines, sliding easily through hot, ready slickness. He shifted to position himself between her legs, kissing her with a tenderness that was at odds with the desperation of their bodies, the ragged anticipation of their breathing.

“Alright?” he murmured, brushing his lips across hers with a gentleness that made her ache, his need for her to confirm her permission causing her chest to flood with warmth. She pulled him closer towards her, savouring the intense moment of intimacy before their baser instincts could resume control.

She nodded and he slid inside her with a groan of rapture, the sensation of him holding still for a moment as his eyes locked with hers sparking a maelstrom of emotion in her heart.

“Douglas,” she breathed after a beat, clawing impatiently at the bare skin of his back in an attempt to force him into movement. “ _Douglas_ ….”

“Yes, Lyn?”

“What did I say…” She drew a sharp breath as he shifted with deliberate restraint, pleasure rippling through her she was determined not to show. “…about not teasing?”

“I _like_ it.”

“You are a smug, egotistical….”

“Which is exactly what _you_ like.”

“Oh, enough.”

He seemed to read the concealed frustration in her tone, her annoyance turning to bliss as he began to grind his hips against her in a settled rhythm. She gave a shuddering sigh as her body began to respond in practiced counterpoint. She could feel herself coiling into an ever tighter spiral, each of his movements triggering hot sparks along her nerves, though her climax still remained tantalisingly out of reach. But he intuited the meaning of her tiny whimper and changed position, the angle at once more agreeable, and she found she was gasping for breath, hurtling towards the edge.

“Douglas…,” she ground out, any embarrassment eclipsed by the raw desire that was overriding her higher functions . “I need….”

He kissed her with a visceral grunt, swallowing the moan that had emanated from deep within, before pulling away to murmur encouragement against the sensitive flesh of her ear, “Don’t hold back, love….Let go….”

The rich ardency of his velvet tone combined with the clever insistence of his fingers reaching between them was enough to catapult her over the precipice--the fire that ripped through every fibre of her being dragging a delirious cry from her lips. She swore in a rapturous tirade as the waves continued to engulf her, her body contracting about his and pulling him over the edge in her wake, the roar from his throat fierce and animalistic.

She was reluctant to relinquish their contact as they recovered, grateful for his strong arms as he rolled back onto the bed and pulled her into his chest, his heart thudding comfortingly against her cheek. She blinked as he murmured soft incoherencies against her hair, his relaxed sentimentality causing a conflicting ache to settle in her stomach when she recalled the term of endearment that had tumbled from his mouth mere moments before. She was unwilling to acknowledge its truth, forcing herself to hold it at arm’s length within her consciousness, focussing instead on the more acceptable reality of his increasingly heavy breathing, the rhythms of his satiated body as he fell towards slumber. 

She nudged him, forcing him to shift his legs as she pulled the duvet across them before settling once more against him, the reassuring solidity of his presence lulling her to sleep.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, chaps - I promise there is a plot and this chapter is where it properly starts.... ;) Thank you so much for sticking with me x

Douglas frowned through the windscreen of his car, the relentless rain lashing against the glass and partially obscuring his vision as he drove down the busy motorway. He had set off on his journey home far later than he had intended, but the delay had been entirely welcome. Carolyn’s body had been warm and pliant beneath his hands, their languorous, unhurried morning in her hotel room infusing every plane of him with ecstasy, his heart swelling with an intense pulse of love. He had been blind to his feelings for decades, and it was a relief to him to finally accept them, even if he found it frustrating to be unable to express them in public. 

It was still a mystery to him how it had happened at all. Granted, they had sparked a ready friendship upon meeting all those years ago--her razor-sharp mind and acerbic wit intriguing him--but the first time he had taken her to bed he had been astounded by their intimate compatibility. She was a long way from the sort of woman he had considered his type, yet his body had been several steps ahead of him, craving her as enthusiastically as his mind coveted their sparring.

They had come to a mutual agreement about how to proceed, disregarding any complicating emotion, simply using sex as a form of stress relief whenever either one of them was in need. It had worked well, and yet somehow something had changed between them in the past twelve months, catalysed, he knew, by his most recent divorce. He had been deeply humiliated by Helena’s betrayal, the hurt driving him once more into Carolyn’s arms, but even as the pain had begun to recede he had still found himself unable to let go. 

He sighed into the otherwise silent car, exasperation tightening like a vice across his chest. _Just how much longer do I give it?_ he pondered in morose introspection, checking his rear-view mirror before pulling out into the middle lane. _If I tell her how I feel she’ll run for the hills, and if I don’t…then I’m not sure I want to continue with the stupid façade that all she is to me is a friend and a…._

_Shit!_ Douglas slammed on his brakes at the sudden realisation of red tail-lights directly ahead of him, the car shuddering to a halt through the surface water mere inches behind the vehicle in front. He drew a relieved breath, his heart pounding against his ribcage with the abrupt spike of adrenalin. _Bloody teach me to keep my mind on the road_ , he mused wryly, _and away from certain bothersome CEOs…._ He turned on the radio as he waited for the traffic to move once more, gratified by the calming strains of Puccini as they swirled through the car. Allowing head to drop back, his eyes glanced towards the mirror to acknowledge the unceasing rain with a renewed sense of dismay.

With a start he realised that the image in his mirror also contained a several-ton lorry looming into view at a horrifying speed behind him, its driver sounding the horn with a desperate sense of urgency as he fought for control through the spray. Panic began to grip Douglas’ chest as he searched blindly for an escape route, the solid line of traffic in both adjacent lanes providing no refuge. A sickening jolt of inevitability ripping through his stomach as the blood roared in his ears. _Oh, Christ….Jesus fucking Christ…._

He felt the impact almost in slow motion, the screech of metal against metal deafening as the lorry ploughed into the car, crushing it with an unceasing force. His mind spiralled haphazardly towards his daughter, towards Carolyn before it registered nothing but excruciating pain tearing through every inch of his broken body. He had the briefest of moments to feel every shattered emotion his soul could summon before his world collapsed into a pinpoint of black.

* * *

Helena Browne awoke suddenly from a formless sleep, her mind churning in confusion as she tried to place the sound that had disturbed her. She reached for her alarm clock, frowning when her insistent fingers failed to lessen the noise. Eventually, her brain caught up to its real origin, and she struggled to a seated position, fumbling for her mobile.

“Is that Helena Richardson?”

She stretched for her clock before answering, the illuminated numbers confirming the early hour, and she blew out an irascible breath. “Who’s this?”

“You _are_ Helena Richardson?” the anonymous voice demanded. “Next-of-kin of Douglas Richardson?”

“ _Douglas_?” She sat up straighter at the mention of her former husband, vaguely registering the disturbance in the bed next to her as her partner shifted beneath the duvet. “I’m….He’s my….What’s happened?”

“This is Doctor Anna Metcliffe at St. Thomas’ hospital in London….”

“ _What_?!”

“I’m afraid Mr. Richardson was involved in a very serious road traffic collision some hours ago. You were listed as his next-of-kin on the organ donor register.”

“Oh my God,” Helena breathed in panic, the man beside her now sitting up and switching on the lamp, concern etched into every contour of his face. “Is he…? You’re telling me he’s…?”

“He’s in a critical condition,” the Doctor continued in a gentle tone, cutting through the other woman’s incomplete questions. “I’d advise that you get here as soon as possible, Mrs. Richardson. We’re doing all we can but it’s extremely touch-and-go.”

Helena felt her stomach twist with anxiety, dismissing the fact that the caller had mistakenly addressed her by her former title. She took a fortifying breath. “Of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Just ask for Intensive Care at Reception and they’ll send you straight up.”

“Thank you.”

She rang off then, replacing her phone onto the bedside table with shaking fingers, feeling the man at her side reach for her hand, her mind racing as she tried to settle her pulse.

“Helena?” he asked quietly after allowing her several moments to regain at least a tenuous grasp of her composure. “What is it?”

She turned to him, struggling to process the information. “Douglas…in a car accident….”

“Christ,” Tim exclaimed with a reassuring squeeze of her fingers. “I’m assuming it’s serious…?”

She gave a wordless nod, swallowing the stubborn lump that had formed in her throat. “I’m still listed as his next-of-kin….Oh, _God_ , Tim….”

“Where is he, Hels?”

She blinked, forcing herself to focus once more. “St. Thomas’.”

“We’ll worry about all this next-of-kin stuff later. Let’s just concentrate on getting there first, alright, and seeing what’s what.”

Helena looked at him in the muted light of the room, immeasurably grateful for his stoic sensitivity. She watched him push back the covers and rise from the bed, her own body feeling sluggish and unresponsive in comparison.

“Come on, love,” he bade her after several further moments, breaking through the grey fog of her shock. She made herself follow him from the warm security of their bed, hands stretching for the clothes she had hurriedly discarded the previous night.

“I need to phone his brother,” she announced, the notion occurring to her abruptly as she pulled the scarlet vest atop her torso, a further thought making her heart twist with regretful anticipation. “And his daughter….”

Tim nodded his agreement as he stepped into a pair of jeans. “We’ll make a list of people on the way….”

“Then there’s his colleagues at MJN Air; I really should….”

“On the way, Hels.” His voice was soft and empathetic as he reached out to touch her shoulder, soothing her increasing sense of hysteria. “Let’s find out exactly what the situation is and then we’ll have much more information to give people; okay?”

She gave a clipped nod, unable to speak further as a tumult of emotion tightened around her vocal chords. Covering his hand with hers, she pulled the rest of her clothes on. She had been miserable for the final few years of her marriage, unable to see a route forwards, and Tim had merely been the catalyst that had accelerated the process. She was still at peace with her decision, rapturous to now be with someone who understood and appreciated her, but she had never wished ill upon the man who had charmed his way into her life more than seventeen years before. With a final shuddering sigh, she reached for her shoes and hurried towards the stairs.

* * *

“I’m not saying that, Arthur,” Carolyn remarked to her son as they approached the door to the portacabin in the soft glow of the sunrise, the condensation on the windows glinting in the weak morning light. “I’m saying I’ll have to _ask_ him. Not everyone is as fond of Snoopadoop as you and I, difficult though that may be to believe.”

“He’d be brilliant, though!” Arthur enthused in step beside her with his characteristic verve, despite the vicious earliness of the hour and the chill of the motionless air. “And it would stop her getting so lonely when we’re away on trips.”

“Yes, but remember: Herc also spends a lot of his time away,” she replied with a grimace, shifting the files she was carrying to her opposite hip as they dug uncomfortably into her flesh. “He _is_ a pilot, dear-heart, or had you forgotten?”

“Just on the times when he’s here and we’re not. Oh, _please_ , Mum.”

Carolyn sighed, the extent of her continued deception causing a ripple of irritation to pass across her heart, her thoughts turning unbidden towards Douglas before she could stop them. “I will _ask_ him, Arthur. As I believe I already said.”

“Great! I’m _sure_ he’ll say yes.”

“Well, we’ll see. I don’t….” She broke off as she noticed the sound of the telephone ringing from within the portacabin, and groaned with an irate vehemence. “Oh, for goodness sake; who the hell can that _possibly_ be at this time of the morning?”

She fumbled with the door keys as the shrill noise continued, hastily handing her cardboard files to Arthur as she managed to unlock the door and march across the threshold. “If that’s Mr. Alyakhin,” she grumbled as she strode towards her office, a black cloud settling across her shoulders. “I’m going to tell him exactly where he can stick his….”

“Mum!”

“Well, for crying out loud, Arthur! It’s not even eight o’clock!”

With a huffed out sigh of dread, she slid into her business-like persona as she picked up the handset, her tone smooth and calm as she projected her welcome. “Good morning, MJN Air; how can we help you?”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, a tiny hitch in the breathing of the caller before they bade a quiet reply. “Is that Mrs. Knapp-Shappey? Carolyn Knapp-Shappey?”

“It most certainly is, madam,” Carolyn replied, distracted for a moment as Arthur gestured towards her, inquiring as to her preference for a hot drink. “I am the owner and CEO of MJN Air; how may I be of service to you on this fine morning?”

“I…I’m…,” the caller faltered and then drew an apparently fortifying breath, and Carolyn felt herself beginning to frown, a tiny stirring of concern edging into her consciousness. “This is Helena Browne….I…I used to be Helena Richardson….”

Carolyn sank into her chair, all initial animosity towards the other woman forgotten as a gripping sense of dread tightened in her chest. “Can I help you, Ms. Browne?” she managed eventually, even tone at odds with the roiling anticipation in her gut. “I’m afraid it’s a little early for Douglas to be here, if you were trying to get hold of him….”

“I’m calling from St. Thomas’ hospital,” the younger woman continued. “There’s….They called me because I’m still….He never changed his next-of-kin and I….”

“What is it?”

Helena’s intake of breath was shuddering, and Carolyn felt every muscle in her body constrict, the blood pounding so hard inside her skull she could barely hear the other woman’s words. “A massive car accident….”

“I see….” Carolyn felt the soft acknowledgement fall from between parched lips, her stomach cramping with nausea, and she leant forwards to brace herself against the desk, determined to concentrate on the information despite the room beginning to spin before her eyes. “Is he…?”

“He’s….got extensive injuries, and he’s in a coma….The doctors really aren’t hopeful….” Helena’s voice had cracked into a sob. “I thought you should know.”

Carolyn sucked in a shaky breath, the intense shock slamming into her chest and knocking the air instantly from her lungs once more. She battled for several seconds with her natural inclination to hyperventilate, distress excruciating beneath her skin. Then, with a monumental effort, she inhaled and dragged a platitude across her suddenly raw throat. “That was…very good of you….”

“Oh God, don’t mention it,” Helena rallied. “He spends so much time at work, how could I not?”

“Well, regardless….” Carolyn lapsed into silence anew before a further, agonising thought occurred to her. “His daughter….”

“She’s on her way….”

“And his brother?”

“Same.” Helena drew another ostensibly steadying breath, stammering over her succeeding words as she asked, “Is there…I mean, is there anyone else you think I should call?”

Carolyn passed a restorative hand across her eyes. “I don’t….”

“I mean, is there a…a girlfriend that you know of….or a….long-term…?”

“No,” the older woman replied, and then grimaced at the snappish quality of her denial, forcing back a sigh as she was awash with a wave of regret. “Not as far as I’m aware.”

“Alright,” Helena acknowledged after a beat. “The doctors are saying to get here as soon as you can, Mrs. Knapp-Shappey….”

“Carolyn,” she corrected. “Please.”

“They’re not giving timescales, Carolyn….but…but, I….”

“I understand. Thank you again for letting us know.”

Carolyn rang off then, grabbing the wastepaper bin and dry-heaving wretchedly, unable to control the physical reaction of her body as her mind struggled to process everything. Bile rose in a bitter surge into her throat as the blood pounded against her eardrums. _Oh my God. This can’t be happening. It can’t. It **can’t** …._

“Mum?” 

She made herself sit up straight once more at the sound of her name, her eyes meeting Arthur’s as he stood in the doorway to her office, the concern radiating through his tone making her heart splinter. She took a long breath to steel herself against the words she knew she had no choice but to utter. “Arthur….”

“What’s the matter?”

Carolyn rose shakily to her feet, gripping the edge of the desk to steady herself, her legs threatening to collapse beneath the force of the adrenalin skating along her nerves. “Let’s go and get back in the car….”

“Why?” Arthur approached her then, his voice saturated with worry, expressive hazel eyes mirroring his anxiety. “Aren’t you feeling well?”

“We’ll ring Martin and pick him up on the way….”

“Who was that on the phone?” Her son’s hand had strayed gently to her arm as the questions began to fall from his mouth. “Mum, what _is_ it? Where are we going?”

“London, darling. To hospital.” Carolyn exhaled, the air shuddering from her lungs in a rush of distress. “I’m afraid I’ve got some terrible news about Douglas….”

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Carolyn had met the third former Mrs. Richardson only once before, though she recognised the younger woman at once as the MJN contingent hurried along the hospital corridor. She was at least ten years Douglas’ junior, tall and slender, dark hair styled elegantly about her shoulders, and Carolyn felt an inappropriate pang of insecure jealousy. She did her best to force it to the pit of her stomach as they approached.

“Carolyn?”

Helena’s skin was pale and drawn, chestnut eyes brimming with worry and exhaustion as she turned towards the CEO. Carolyn found her hand being enclosed between soft fingers as she reached the younger woman’s side.

She nodded towards the men beside her by means of introduction. “This is my son, Arthur…and I believe you know Martin Crieff.”

“We’ve met before; yes.” Helena directed a ghost of a smile towards the Captain, who flushed. The subtext between them triggered the memory of the demise of the Richardsons’ marriage, and Carolyn supressed a sigh.

“How is he, Helena?” she managed after a beat, grateful that she had somehow managed to maintain a neutral tone despite the painful constriction in her throat.

The younger woman sighed, her expression contorting as she squeezed her eyes closed. “He’s in an induced coma on life support….”

“Oh, God,” Martin interjected softly, and Carolyn laid an instinctive hand on his arm.

“Both of his legs are broken in several places, his pelvis is shattered and his ribs are shot to pieces,” Helena continued in a monotone. Carolyn felt nausea flare in her stomach, swallowing hard. “There’s a collapsed lung, and they’ve already operated to remove his spleen….”

“His spleen?” Arthur repeated aghast, his horrified expression causing Carolyn’s heart to contract even as she reached to squeeze his hand.

“The only positive thing they could tell me was that they’ve managed to stabilise the internal bleeding….”

“Stabilise, not eradicate?” Carolyn’s question was sharp, and she held Helena’s gaze before the younger woman broke away with a helpless shrug.

“That, and the fact that he somehow managed to avoid a colossal head injury. But….” She faltered with a shuddering sigh, her gaze dropping to the floor. Carolyn felt her heart crash against her ribcage in terrible anticipation.

“But…?” she prompted, aware that her tone was brusque but unable to stop it beneath the weight of her anxiety.

“But his…his heart stopped twice in the air ambulance,….and they’re…concerned that if it happens again…he might not be strong enough to withstand the resuscitation.”

Carolyn choked back a fierce throb of distress as the words hung in the air between them. Suddenly, she was grateful for Martin’s deliberate clearing of his throat, the warm comfort of Arthur’s hand still clasped in hers.

“What exactly _happened_?” Martin murmured. “I mean, he’s a good driver; he’s a _pilot_ , for God’s sake, driving a car is like child’s play in comparison….”

Helena gave a sympathetic smile. “Apparently he was rear-ended by a large lorry whilst stationary….”

Martin paled. “Jesus….”

“He didn’t stand a chance. The bloody thing basically aqua-planed straight into the back of him.” 

“Have you seen him?” Carolyn interrupted before Martin could ask any further questions.

The brunette shook her head. “Not yet. There’s a doctor in with him again at the moment….When she’s done, it’s possible they might let….Though they’re saying it’s family only.”

“Then that means Emily.” Carolyn insisted, though the resultant agonising stab in her chest almost knocked the breath from her lungs. 

“Of course,” Helena replied smoothly. “Though I’m hoping they might make an exception…at least for myself and Sarah….”

Carolyn inclined her head in accession at the mention of Emily’s mother, though she could feel righteous anger irritating the lining of her stomach at the implication. _You’re his **ex** -wife, for goodness sake, you silly cow. You lost your right to be considered family when you…._

“There’s also his brother, of course,” she remarked aloud to stop the thunderous thought reaching completion, watching as Helena snatched a quick breath of agitation.

“Well, naturally. But he lives in York, Carolyn….I’ve got no idea when he’s likely to get here.”

“Then Emily will no doubt arrive first. She lives in London now, doesn’t she, if memory serves?”

Helena shrugged her slim shoulders. “As far as I’m aware.”

“Good. So she should be here imminently.” Carolyn gave a clipped nod. “Good. That’s good.”

Helena took a breath to reply but stopped as her attention was drawn to an approaching figure, her features slackening in visible relief as the man reached her side and pressed a cardboard cup into her fingers. “Ah, Tim; these are Douglas’ colleagues from MJN….”

Carolyn felt her heart threaten to explode as the man turned to face her, his presence flooding her with memories of the early days of Douglas’ separation from Helena. _So you’re the Tai Chi instructor_ , she thought, momentarily amused by the man’s complete difference in every respect from Douglas. His wiry physique, soft grey eyes and gentle demeanour were in sharp contrast to those of her lover, and she suspected Helena’s choice had been entirely deliberate. Her actions, with the complicity of the man who was now shaking Carolyn’s hand, had shattered Douglas’ visions of the future, and Carolyn felt a swell of protective anger, forcing away a concurrent pang of gratitude for the catalyst that had driven him initially into her arms.

“It’s good to meet you,” she found herself saying aloud, before introducing Martin and Arthur, forcing down her irritation at the warm smile creasing his features as he shook each hand.

“Likewise,” Tim replied though his attention had flickered towards Helena, free hand straying to the small of his partner’s back with concern as she crumpled against him. “Listen, I hope you’ll not think me rude but I really want to make sure she sits down for a bit….”

“Tim…,” Helena’s protest was half-hearted.

“Not a word more, Hels. You’re going to sit down and you’re going to drink this tea, and then….”

“Talking of which,” Martin interrupted before Helena could object further, turning to address Arthur though Carolyn was aware that she was more the focus of his attention, “How about you go and find the café, Arthur? I could really do with a coffee.”

“Right-o, Skip. Mum?”

She gave a tight-lipped nod, her eyes tracking him as he walked away before allowing herself to be directed by Martin, shrugging his hand away in irritation as they came to a halt. He had inadvertently robbed her of the chance to observe the two people who had been the cause of Douglas’ anguish, and she was gripped with a sudden, intense fury, pulse pounding in her throat.

The hue of her eyes had darkened to cobalt, one hand moving pointedly to her hip. “ _What_?”

Martin sighed in discomfort and looked down at his shoes. “All this stuff about it being family only….”

“It’s _reasonable_ , Martin. And standard, in my experience.”

He shrugged. “Depends on the exact definition of ‘family’, doesn’t it?”

“I would think that’s fairly self-explanatory; even for you.”

“Would be _standard_ to allow ex-wives in, though? I mean, isn’t that taking it a bit far?”

Carolyn felt her jaw tense at his astute observation. “Why’s that relevant? For one thing, Sarah is the mother of his child, and Helena’s his….”

“But….”

“What’s your _point_ , Martin?”

“My point….” He faltered, a stubborn flush creeping into his freckled cheeks. “My point is….”

She exhaled in impatience at his stuttering hesitation and rolled her eyes. “For heaven’s sake! Just spit it out, would you?”

“This is delicate, Carolyn. I’m trying not to put my foot in it.”

“Oh, you’re guaranteed to do that regardless.” Her tone was scathing, an unpleasant sense of foreboding settling around her shoulders. “But all this dilly-dallying is plain ridiculous and frankly pathetic so get to the damn point or I’m sitting back down.”

Martin sighed again, the air shuddering into the space between them, and he lowered his voice further. “My point is…that you’re also his…his….”

“His _what_?”

“His ex-….”

“Don’t be absurd,” she snapped, cutting him off before he could complete his sentence, her stomach twisting at the betrayal. “I’m not his ex- _anything_.”

“I know it was a while ago, but you….The two of you were….Well, you were….”

Carolyn’s stare was glacial, her tone biting as she warned, “Martin, really: do not even _think_ about completing that sentence.”

“I just….” Martin ran an awkward hand through his auburn curls. “I just thought you might want to _see_ him, that’s all…and if they end up making an exception for….”

“Oh, for goodness sake!”

The young pilot looked horrified, pale eyes shot through with distress and disbelief. “He could be _dying_ , Carolyn.”

“We _all_ want to see him, you idiot. But the rules are there for a reason.”

“Are they?”

“ _Yes_ ,” she said, huffing out an irate sigh though the guilt pressing against her chest was stifling. “I don’t want to hear any more about this, Martin; understood?”

“What have you got to lose by asking at least?”

“ _Understood_?”

He held her gaze for a brief moment before crumpling beneath the ferocity of her glare. Carolyn turned on her heel and stalked away, heart pounding against her ribs. She was still, more than twelve months down the line, completely mortified by the fact that Martin had once caught her with Douglas at an horrifically intimate moment, and his allusion to the event only fuelled a maelstrom of emotion. _So much has happened since that night_ , she thought, deflating at once as she took a seat several away from Helena. _I’ve insisted on so much deception, and for what, exactly? Some bizarre notion of maintaining privacy, of preserving boundaries? Christ, I can’t even admit to myself how I feel about the damn fool man, how the hell am I supposed to explain it to anyone else? I want to see him. I want to open my mouth and confess who I am, demand that they take me to him…but I can’t. I can’t allow myself to drop my guard. Not even for a moment._ With a strangled sigh she sat back against the uncomfortable plastic, wrestling the pressure in her throat towards the pit of her stomach as she watched the seconds tick relentlessly by.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Carolyn awoke with a start, confusion fogging her senses for a brief moment before reality came crashing down, wincing at the pain in her neck muscles as she struggled to sit up straighter. She blinked in surprise as she registered the time, aware that darkness had long since fallen outside. They had been at the hospital for an interminably tense period, minutes lengthening with an agonising slowness. She had sent Martin and Arthur home with strict orders to eat and sleep, promising to call with news, then had resigned herself to strained conversation with Helena and Tim before drifting into silence, and then into a fractured slumber. Her fragmented dreams were of Douglas, his amorphous form always out of reach, leaving her to wake with adrenalin sparking through her nerves and hair matted at the nape of her neck.

She rubbed a hand across her eyes, blinking as a blurred figure approached, dark woollen cardigan enveloping an anxious, petite form.

Carolyn took a breath to address them, her voice rough and harsh as she murmured, “Emily?”

Douglas’ daughter was gaunt and pale, arms wrapped about her slender waist in defence as she came to a halt, dark eyes flickering between each individual as they vied for her attention. Carolyn felt her stomach lurch as she stood to greet her.

“What have they said, sweetheart?” Helena’s question cut across Carolyn’s impending query. 

Emily failed to completely supress a flinch at the endearment. With a deep sigh, shoulders shuddering with the effort, she said, “There’s not much change, to be honest. They’re….They still have no idea if…if he….”

She broke off with a choked sob, allowing herself to be guided into a chair by Helena, who settled at once at her side. Wordlessly, Carolyn walked to the water cooler and filled a cup, pressing it into Emily’s hands, and acknowledging her grateful smile with a slight nod.

“God, he looks terrible,” she murmured after a moment, sipping her water and blinking back tears. “I knew it would be bad but….I…I wasn’t prepared for….”

“Well, of course you weren’t,” Carolyn empathised, her eyes locking with Emily’s as she glanced up. “How could you _possibly_ be?”

“I need to see him,” Helena announced, rising suddenly, hysteria punctuating her words. “It’s absolutely ridiculous that they keep saying ‘no’, absolutely bloody ridiculous!”

“Helena.” Tim’s tone was mild yet edged with warning as he touched her back. “Asking them again would be pointless….”

“I don’t care! I was married to him for almost fifteen _years_ , for God’s sake; I’m still his bloody next-of-kin!”

“Are you?” Emily’s head had snapped up, her question pointed and acidic. “Why?”

“No idea; but it’s why I was contacted first when….”

“Must have been an oversight on Dad’s part.”

“Even so,” Helena retorted, her chin rising a fraction in defiance. “I think that should mean….”

“It doesn’t mean anything.” Emily heaved an expansive sigh, one hand carding shakily through her hair. “They can’t have one rule for….”

“Oh, of _course_ they can.”

“They _can’t_ , Helena. It’s not like you’re the only one who wants to see him.”

“I know that.”

“Well, then.”

“Look,” Tim interjected before the discussion between the two women could escalate further. “Why don’t we go home for a bit, Hels, eh? Get some rest, and….”

“No.” Helena’s tone was firm and insistent, though the word caught in her throat. “I’m not leaving until I see him.”

Carolyn raised a placating palm, breaking her steadfast silence. “You have my word that if anything changes, one of us will call.”

“You’re not leaving?” The younger woman sounded surprised, though with an undercurrent of suspicion.

She shrugged, trying to project an air of dismissiveness. “I’ll stay for a while longer, at least.”

Helena narrowed her eyes. “Rather above and beyond, isn’t it?”

“I’ve known him for a long time, Helena.” Carolyn was careful to preserve a neutral tone. “Besides, I think someone should stay with Emily until her uncle or her mother can get here, don’t you?”

“Well, that should be me, then, shouldn’t it?”

“ _Should_ it?”

“Helena, you’re exhausted,” Tim interrupted as Emily and Carolyn each drew a sharp breath to respond, calming gentleness infusing every syllable. “Let’s go home, get our heads down and come back in a few hours; alright?”

Douglas’ ex-wife shook her head, consternation lining the otherwise flawless skin of her forehead. “I’m fine, Tim….”

“You need to eat, at the very least.”

“There’s a vending machine….”

“No.” Tim’s soft tenor was emphatic. “We’re going home, love, and we’re going now.”

“I’ll ring you the moment there’s anything to report,” Carolyn reiterated, dampening down a jab of irritation as she watched the other woman wrestle with her uncertainty. “I’m a woman of my word, Helena.”

“Alright?” the man repeated firmly, already beginning to guide his protesting partner away and flashing a thankful smile over his shoulder towards Carolyn and Emily.

The two women sat in a companionable silence for several moments, Carolyn continuing to fight her annoyance at Helena’s unreasonable demands. She was relieved that Tim had managed to overrule his partner and grateful for the impending time away from the woman who had shared Douglas’ life for more than a decade. _She irks the hell out of me_ , Carolyn mused, almost rolling her eyes at the obvious thought. _Well, of course she does, old girl. She’s quintessentially his type, isn’t she? Whereas you…._ She stopped the notion from forming with a vicious effort, berating herself for its irrelevance. _Dear **God**. Hardly the time to be worrying about such nonsense, is it? Get a grip, Carolyn. Get a bloody grip. _

“Thank you,” Emily murmured after a few seconds had passed, and Carolyn blinked from her reverie in surprise, turning towards the young woman whose attention was focussed on her folded hands.

“For what?”

“For staying. I didn’t want….” Emily faltered, and sighed. “I know it’s pathetic at my age…but I really didn’t want to be here alone.”

“What’s age got to do with it?”

“I’m a grown woman, Carolyn. I’ll be twenty-eight next month.”

“And your point is?” The CEO huffed out a breath of disapproval, her characteristic gruffness masking her distress. “He’s still your father, Emily. Age has no bearing whatsoever on how vulnerable that makes you.”

The young brunette inhaled with an agonised shudder, the air stuttering into her lungs. “I suppose not.”

“So, no more of that nonsense. There was never any question of any one of us leaving you here alone.”

“Well…I’m grateful anyway. Especially given that you’re….I mean, that you’re not….”

“Family?”

Emily looked suddenly aghast, delicate features contorting with worry. “I didn’t mean….I just meant there’s no reason for you in particular to have stayed.”

The words were like a physical blow to the fragile corner of Carolyn’s heart where she guarded every complicated emotion for the girl’s father, but she made herself maintain an unaffected tone. “No, but as I told your step-mother….”

“She is _not_ my….”

“I’ve known your father for a long time.” She sighed, permitting herself to divulge a tiny part of the truth. “I may now be his boss…but I’m also his friend.”

Emily closed her eyes for a brief moment. “I just wish….He should have someone….There should _be_ someone who….”

“He’s got plenty of people who care about him, you know. It speaks volumes that one ex-wife has already been here and another is on her way.”

“I just thought….” She broke off and frowned, deflating back against her chair. “He’s seemed so _happy_ these past few months, I just assumed there was….”

_Oh, God…._ “Well, I wouldn’t have any idea, naturally.” 

“He’s never mentioned anyone? I mean, the four of you spend so much time together….I thought perhaps it might have come up in conversation.”

“It’s none of my business, Emily.”

“But he _has_ seemed happier, don’t you think? More…content with his life in general.”

Carolyn gave a non-committal shrug, her deception causing an unpleasant constriction across her chest. “I really couldn’t say. There _are_ some topics that are generally off-limits between employers and employees, you know.”

“Well, whatever. I just wish he’d mentioned it if he is seeing someone, I wish he’d opened his bloody mouth….” Emily inhaled with a barely-contained sob. “Whoever she is she should _be_ here. I hate that bloody _Helena_ thinks she’s got a monopoly on….”

“That might be a _trifle_ unfair.”

“It’s not remotely unfair. He hasn’t seen hide nor hair of her in more than a year, and then she shows up and wants to hold his hand like a _dutiful_ wife?” Emily blew out a disdainful breath. “Please.”

“She’s just concerned, Emily. Whatever happened between them doesn’t change that….”

“Surely you know what happened? He _must_ have mentioned it.”

Carolyn inclined her head in careful concession. “I know the basics of it….”

“Well, then.”

“…but that doesn’t negate the fact that she obviously still cares.”

“She hasn’t got the right. And we don’t even know how to contact the woman who actually _does_.”

_Oh, Emily. If only you knew…._ “That’s terribly presumptive. You don’t even know if said woman _exists_ , let alone….”

“I know my father,” the young woman insisted, crumpling as the words left her lips, eyes filling with tears. “I _know_ him.”

Carolyn allowed the resulting silence to lengthen, buying both of them time to regain their composure and ignoring the desolation that continued to writhe beneath her skin. “Did the doctors give you _any_ new information?” 

Emily shook her head and swallowed hard. “They just told me to prepare myself for…for the….”

“Emily….”

“God, how the hell am I supposed to do that? He’s my _dad_ ….”

Carolyn gave a gesture of dismissal. “Well, you can’t; of _course_ you can’t. I’ve always thought that was a preposterous thing to say to someone in this sort of situation.”

Emily squeezed her eyes closed and sat back against her chair before opening them again to stare at the ceiling. “I know he’s not perfect. I know he’s not _been_ perfect over the years….”

“He’s a human being….”

“…but he’s still my dad….” Her quiet soprano cracked, and Carolyn felt her heart splinter in empathy. “I’m scared.”

She released a slow breath, pausing to allow Emily a few moments to collect herself, resisting the maternal urge to reach for her hand. “Frankly if you weren’t…you’d need your head examining.”

“I’m not ready to lose him, Carolyn….”

“I don’t think anybody’s ever ready to lose a parent.” Carolyn forced herself to rally, willing away the stubborn ball of pressure in her throat as she squared her shoulders. “Let’s try and keep a positive mind-set. There’s absolutely _nothing_ to be gained from anything else; alright?”

Emily gave a determined nod though her tense body remained trembling. “I’m trying.”

“I know you are.”

She attempted a smile, the expression ghosting across her features, and pushed herself to her feet before glancing back down towards Carolyn. “Christ, I need another coffee; how about you?”

“I never say ‘no’ to coffee, as a general rule.” Carolyn’s response was warm, and she was heartened by the broadening of her smile. “Thank you, Emily.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

She stepped away then, and Carolyn waited until she was several feet along the corridor before permitting herself to collapse, her heart aching beneath the weight of her anxiety and deception. She could feel the utter desolation, the intense melancholy as it seeped into the very depths of her bones, driving the energy from her body and filling her with despair. _If I’d allowed him the honesty he wanted, I’d be able to comfort the poor child properly instead of holding her at arm’s length….Now it’s impossible. Now we each have to worry in isolation. My God, I’m so tired….So tired._ She fought the powerful urge to sob, to allow herself the catharsis, the exhaustion instead forcing her eyelids to close, the world blurring into blackness as she was slammed into an unstoppable oblivion.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Martin leant against the wall of the corridor, absently nibbling the remains of the cereal bar in his hand as he allowed his mind to drift. He and Arthur had arrived back at the hospital several hours before, and after much debate he had at last convinced Carolyn to go home. The CEO’s mood had been one of grudging concession as she strode from the building, a dark cloud about her shoulders. It was a testament to her exhaustion that she had complied at all, he mused with a crooked smile. His boss had a notorious iron will and a snappish temper, and he had been prepared for a bitter argument. But, in spite of an initial degree of resistance, she had eventually acquiesced. He was still somewhat confused by her refusal to discuss her past with Douglas. His two ex-wives had finally been allowed in to see him, but Carolyn had remained stoic in her silence, apparently content to observe the proceedings from a distance. _I don’t get it_ , he pondered with a frown. _They were…doing whatever they were doing for God knows how long…and now she’s not prepared to admit it, even if it means she might not get to see him before he….before he…._ Martin chased the thought away with a concerted effort, unbidden tears piercing the corners of his eyes, a jolt of pain lancing through his chest. _He is not going to die, he told himself with determination. He is **not**. _

“How d’you think your mum’s doing, Arthur?” The words had left his throat before he could stop them, the object of his attention blinking and glancing up towards Martin over the top of his cardboard cup.

“I don’t know, Skip,” he replied with a sigh, brow creased with worry. “I hope she’s eaten something. I did leave her out a plate…and then I hope she’s had a sleep, and maybe….”

“No, I meant…how do you think she’s….Well, _coping_ with all this…?”

Arthur looked nonplussed. “Mum can cope with anything.”

“Yes, ordinarily…but….”

“She’s the strongest person I know, Skip.”

“But…I mean, Douglas…He’s….” Martin broke off with frustration, unsure of how much information to divulge, and he settled for a careful, “He and Carolyn have known each other for a long time, haven’t they?”

“Oh, _yeah_ , years and years. They worked together at Air England for a while, I think, before Mum started MJN.”

“So they’re…friends.” The statement sounded lame, even to his own ears, and he grimaced at the over-simplification though Arthur seemed not to have noticed.

“Of course. But, I mean, we’re _all_ friends, aren’t we? You and me and Mum and Douglas, we’re like….Well, we’re like a _family_ , Skip.”

Martin felt his heart contract, the pressure at the back of his throat almost overwhelming at the other man’s gentle, honest statement. “Oh, Arthur….”

“That’s the way I always think of us, anyway.” His eyes had locked with Martin’s, hazel eyes bright with unshed tears. “I’m really worried about him, Skip.”

Martin sighed in empathy and took a seat beside his friend, one hand rubbing gentle circles between his shoulder blades. “Me too, Arthur.”

“He’s not going to die, is he?”

“I really, really hope not.” 

“He can’t. How would we manage without him?”

“I don’t know.” Martin blew out a melancholic breath as he considered the unpleasant notion. “Genuinely no idea, Arthur.”

“I wish I could help. I’m sure if they let us in we could hold his hand, and….”

“I don’t think there’s much chance of that. You saw how much of a battle it was for Helena and Sarah to be allowed in, and they used to be _married_ to him.”

“I suppose so. I’m a bit surprised Mum hasn’t done her….”

“Her what?”

“Well, you know: her scary dragon-lady thing.” Arthur clamped a hand over his mouth in self-reproach at the sentiment, his eyes widening. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Martin paused for a moment, anxiety knotting in his stomach as he considered the wisdom of his words. “I’m pretty worried about your mum, as it happens.”

Arthur frowned in confusion and glanced towards him. “Why?”

“Because she’s….she’s known Douglas the longest…It’s like I was saying before about them being… _friends_ ….”

“But it’s like _I_ said, Skip: we’re his friends too.”

Martin gave a testy sigh, frustrated by the younger man’s inability to grasp the subtlety. “Alright, let’s try a different tack; she’s barely said three words to either of us since we all arrived here, except to bark orders….”

Arthur shrugged. “That’s Mum.”

“I know, but….I think she’s bottling things up…and….”

“That’s just what she does, Skip.” Arthur inclined his head. “Although…if you think it’ll help…I could always call Herc.”

Martin raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Do you not think she’s already called him?”

“I just meant see if he could come here. Or pick her up at the house and bring her back.”

The pilot barked a brief laugh. “D’you think she’d _let_ him?”

“I think he’s been making her happy, Skip. I think that might count for _something_.”

“Well, I definitely think she could use the support, even if she’d never admit to it. God knows she’s not letting either of us do it.” Martin gave a decisive nod. “Yeah, go on, Arthur. Give him a ring and see what he says.”

“Brilliant! I’ll do it right now.”

Arthur rose, exuding characteristic enthusiasm as he raced down the corridor, and Martin frowned, considering the likelihood of Carolyn erupting into a furious fireball at the perceived interference. _She’s been with him for a year_ , he told himself in reassurance. _She’d surely want him to be here? To say nothing of the fact that he’s an old friend of Douglas’….She’d definitely want him to be here….But, oh God, she’s going to kill us if we’ve got it wrong, absolutely and completely kill us…._ The notion caused a wry smile to dance across his features before it dissolved once more, overwhelmed by the perpetual grip of distress. _Don’t you dare die, Douglas_ , he commanded fiercely. _Don’t you bloody **dare**. _

* * *

Carolyn strode down the corridor, the refreshment she had gained evaporating into a cloud of renewed anxiety as she approached the familiar group of people clustered outside the Intensive Care ward. Emily was sitting hand-in-hand with her mother, a softly-spoken woman whom Carolyn had liked immediately. Helena was pacing in agitation, and the newly-arrived Gregory Richardson, a startlingly similar version of his older brother, was speaking in earnest tones to a grave-faced doctor. Martin rose to his feet as she slowed, and she found herself being enveloped in the arms of her son, the warmth of his embrace quick to soothe her as it had always done.

“Hi, Mum,” Arthur beamed as he brushed a kiss across her cheek. “Feeling a bit better?”

Carolyn raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’m cleaner and less hungry than I was; does that qualify?”

“Definitely!”

“Carolyn…,” Martin began, his tone sparking the edges of suspicion in her gut, though she was prevented from interrogating him by Arthur’s cheerful deluge.

“Guess what, Mum?”

“I’ve no idea, Arthur,” she sighed. “And I am singularly _not_ in the mood for twenty questions.”

“Oh.” He deflated for a second before brightening anew as his attention was caught by a figure looming behind his mother’s shoulder. “Well, you don’t have to guess now: Herc’s here! Surprise!”

Carolyn felt her blood turn to ice, aware that her skin had paled. She ignored Martin as he made to explain, turning instead to find herself beneath the scrutiny of Hercules Shipwright, his sharp blue eyes laden with confusion as he opened his mouth to greet her.

“Herc: a word,” she commanded, cutting off his attempt to say her name and steering him away from the two younger men, heart thumping at a deafening intensity in her ears.

“And hello to you too,” he intoned with a wry smile, the expression morphing once more into one of bewilderment and concern as he regarded her. “Carolyn, forgive me: but what the _hell_ is going on here?”

She sighed, forcing herself to meet his gaze despite her instinct to the contrary. “I assume Martin and Arthur explained….”

“Well, they did, after a fashion. They told me that Douglas was in a bad way….”

“He is. It’s terribly serious, by all accounts.”

“Which is awful, and obviously I’m very concerned for the poor old chap.”

“Well, fine. It’s good of you to come and….”

“But Arthur in particular seemed to be under the impression that I should be here to….Well, to look after _you_ , as it happens.”

Carolyn gave a disdainful snort. “Completely unnecessary.”

“And he was surprised that you hadn’t phoned me yourself.” Herc took a small step towards her and lowered his voice. “So I’ll ask you again, Carolyn: what on earth is going on?”

She drew a slow breath in an attempt to counter the spike of adrenalin, the dread compressing the bones of her chest. “How much did you ask when you spoke to Arthur?”

“Quite frankly I was so surprised to hear from him, I couldn’t take in everything he was saying.” Herc frowned and shook his head. “I haven’t seen or even _spoken_ to you in more than six months, Carolyn, not since we ran into each other by chance in--”

“I’m well aware of that fact,” she interrupted.

“Yet Arthur seemed to think….”

“Yes. I know what he thinks.”

Herc held up a palm, and said in a smooth voice, “Correct me if I’m wrong, then…but I get the distinct impression that I’m being used as a cover.”

She grimaced, his astuteness disarming her, and she fumbled for the right words. “It’s not quite as simple as all that.”

“But I’m not far off the mark, am I?”

Carolyn sighed, aware that she was hurtling towards exposure and feeling the panic tighten once more in her gut. “It wasn’t a _deliberate_ deception, Herc.”

He raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Well, that’s good to know.”

“I just mean…after meeting you, and after you….Well, after you asked…..”

“Yes. I remember how you _devastatingly_ turned me down.”

“Yes. Well.” She cleared her throat, though found she was becoming vaguely flustered beneath his amused scrutiny. “After that, I simply allowed people to assume.”

He inclined his head, eyes twinkling as he refused to surrender. “So what you’re saying is: you allowed people to assume you were sleeping with me….”

“Just say it a bit louder, Herc. I’m not sure the nurses on the next ward heard you.”

“…whereas you are in fact in reality _actually_ sleeping with….”

She closed her eyes against the incoming accusation before making herself open them to regard him, realisation settling into each line of his features as the truth fell at once into place. She took a breath to respond though he was quicker, incredulity in every syllable.

“Oh, good _Lord_. You really _are_.”

Carolyn commanded herself not to flush, eyes narrowing in warning as she held his gaze with a fierce defiance. “And what of it?”

“ _Douglas_?”

“I’m not getting into a discussion, Herc.”

“Even though it indirectly involves me?”

Carolyn sliced the air with a dismissive palm. “Only by happenstance.”

“Even then.” He leant towards her in earnest, his gaze softening as he appraised her. “I’m guessing by the look of barely-disguised panic on your face that no-one else knows?”

“It is _not_ panic,” she retorted, though found herself inclining her head in grudging concession. “But, no. It’s not exactly common knowledge.”

“ _Why_ , for goodness sake?”

Carolyn exhaled, defences rising. “It’s none of your business.”

“Of course not.” His response was mild. “But it does seem a trifle ridiculous given that you’re both consenting adults, and you….”

“That’s _enough_ , Herc.”

“Oh, fine.” He raised a placating palm. “What exactly would you like me to do, then?”

“I’ve no idea. I’m not the one who invited you here in the first place.”

“Well, _obviously_ , given that you didn’t seem to think I needed to be kept in the loop.”

“As Douglas’ friend?” She clicked her tongue in impatience and huffed out a breath. “Alright; for _that_ you can have an apology. Though you can take it as read that it’s a grudging one.”

“And for the rest?”

“For your wounded masculine pride, you mean?”

“If you like.”

“Give me _strength_.”

“Can I just remind you, Carolyn: you used the fact that I was clearly interested in you to weave a cunning web of deceit so that you could sh--”

“Don’t be crass.”

“….Douglas to your heart’s content under the radar.”

Her gaze was withering. “I did nothing of the sort.”

“Well, as good as.” He sighed again and squeezed the bridge of his nose before addressing her once more. “Let me refer you back to my original question, then: what would you like me to do now that I’m here?”

“You can do whatever you like, Herc,” she replied with a shrug of projected indifference. “Stay, go; it’s more or less all the same to me.”

“Is it? Even given that your son specifically requested that I come, presumably because he’s concerned about you?”

“That was just Arthur in helpful mood,” she scoffed in disdain, though her breath caught in her throat at the notion of her child’s anxiety. “I’m fine.”

“Hm,” he replied, eyes beginning to narrow in suspicion at the circumspect edge to her tone. “And that’s him worrying about you because he thinks you’re merely Douglas’ _friend_ ; imagine how he’d feel if he knew that you’re really….”

“ _Not_ that you’re about to open your mouth on that score.”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Telling you.” She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Obviously.”

“Well, in that case, do you not think it might be prudent for me to stick around for a while? Help keep up the pretence, ridiculous though I’m given to thinking that it is?”

Carolyn hesitated for a moment, her mind spinning through the potential pitfalls of his suggestion before dismissing them. “It’s up to you.”

“Naturally.” He frowned, stretching out a hand to caress her upper arm, and Carolyn was unable to stop herself from flinching. “You won’t lose face if you let your guard down a bit, you know. Even if you don’t want to tell the whole truth about….”

“I’m absolutely _fine_ , Herc.”

“I’m happy to stay, alright? I’m not due out of Heathrow for another few days.”

“Well, as I said: it’s entirely up to you.”

“Good.” Herc’s velvet baritone was decisive, cutting through her attempts at nonchalance. “I’m going to hug you now, Carolyn. Firstly because I think you need it….”

“I do _not_. Don’t pretend you know me that well, Herc, because you….”

“…and secondly because Martin and Arthur have been surreptitiously watching us for the past five minutes, and if you’re serious about maintaining this absurd charade….”

“Oh, for pity’s sake!”

He grinned and pulled her into his embrace, Carolyn instinctively stiffening before allowing herself to absorb the comfort of his strong arms, willing herself not to lose control against the warm, broad planes of his chest. After a brief moment she pulled away and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder.

“That’s quite enough.”

His features creased into a smile. “Whatever you say.”

She took a breath to respond further but felt the air leave her lungs as she noticed Gregory Richardson approaching the fractured group. She took a step towards him before realising she had done so, pulse quickening in heady anticipation.

Douglas’ brother’s sombre expression transformed into a glorious smile, his successive words almost knocking Carolyn to the ground with a wave of overwhelming relief. 

“He’s only bloody rallying! Christ knows how but he’s _bloody_ rallying! The doctor says she wants to try taking him off the ventilator and seeing how he responds….”

The rest of his explanation was lost to Carolyn as she felt her vision begin to blur, hope exploding through her heart, legs trembling. She hurried away from the group before she could succumb to the sensations, ignoring their confused expressions as they watched her retreating back. Only once she reached the safety of a toilet cubicle did she allow herself a small sob, shoulders shuddering with the effort of holding back the deluge. She passed a shaking hand across her face in a vague attempt at recovery. _You heard what the man said,_ she told herself, swallowing hard as the days of pent-up anxiety threatened to rip through her, gulping hard-fought air into her body. _He’s improving. He’s damn well **improving**_. _And you sitting in here crying like a school girl is helping neither him nor you, so bloody well pull yourself together, get back out there and reengage the brave face; okay? As far as all those people out there are concerned you’re nothing more than his boss, so bloody well start **acting** like it…._

Within moments she had regained sufficient equilibrium to exit the stall, forcing away the tears that were still burning the corners of her eyes and the back of her throat. Mentally squaring her shoulders, she stepped from the bathroom and back towards the fray.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

“You need to calm down, Helena. If he’s shown improvement in the past twenty-four hours, that can only be a good thing all round; can’t it?”

Douglas’s ex-wives were already deep in discussion by the time she made it back to the corridor, and Carolyn raised an eyebrow and took a pointed step back. Sarah held up a tranquil palm towards Helena, her tone one of calming placation.

Helena’s response was glacial, eyes narrowing to fierce slits. “I’m perfectly calm, thank you.”

“So why do you think it’s so unreasonable that Emily should be allowed back in first? Surely when he regains consciousness….”

“ _If_.”

“ _When_ ,” Sarah continued doggedly, “he regains consciousness, surely his daughter will be the first person he’d like to see?”

“Well, of _course_. That’s not even remotely in dispute.”

“So there we are, then.”

Helena huffed out an irritated sigh. “I just think….”

“I know what you think.”

“ _Do_ you?”

“I know you think you should get priority. Though _why_ I’ve got no idea.”

“Not necessarily priority, as such….”

“Ah, I see.” Sarah gave a thin-lipped smile and lifted her chin a fraction in quiet defiance. “You just have a problem with me being in there before you are.”

Helena passed a hand roughly through her dark tresses and sighed again. “That’s ridiculous, Sarah.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.”

“It’s _completely_ ridiculous, at that.” 

“My daughter wants me to be in there with her. Whatever he may be to either of us, he’s still Emily’s father.”

Helena shook her head in sharp dismissal. “He’s not _anything_ to me.”

“I beg to differ; given your….”

“I’ve got a new partner, Sarah. I have done for over a year now.”

Sarah shrugged. “With respect, Helena, I’d say that’s largely irrelevant. You obviously think that because you were married to him the most recently that somehow gives you the right to….”

“And you obviously think that because you gave him a _child_ that affords you likewise.”

“Excuse me,” Carolyn cut in, slicing through the venom in the younger woman’s tone as she stepped towards them. “I think that’s probably enough, don’t you?”

Helena barked a humourless laugh. “I don’t see how it’s got anything to do with _you_ , I’m afraid. You’re merely his _colleague_ and you….”

“There’s not a pecking order, Helena.”

“We’re his _family_ , Carolyn. Dysfunctional though we may be.”

Emily clicked her tongue in disapproval and moved to stand beside Carolyn. “The thing is, Helena…you’re _not_. Not anymore.”

“Well, maybe not technically,” Helena conceded with a sigh. “But he’s otherwise limited in that department, isn’t he? I mean, apart from you and Gregory, who else is there?”

Emily gave a nonchalant shrug, blinking her gaze away from the older woman’s scrutiny. Carolyn felt her heart rate begin to accelerate in anticipation. “There’s…someone. Of that I’m absolutely certain.”

Helena’s eyebrows shot towards her hairline. “Who?”

“I’m not sure.”

“But you do mean a… _girlfriend_?”

Emily pulled a face. “Dad’s almost sixty. I really bloody hope she’s not a _girl_.”

“You know what I mean.”

Sarah touched her daughter on the arm to draw her attention. “You didn’t say anything before.”

“Well, I can’t be a hundred percent….It’s just….” She broke off and sighed in frustration. “These past few months he’s seemed…I don’t know…happier. More at peace, and….”

Helena rolled her eyes disparagingly. “That could be down to any number of things; why do you necessarily assume it’s a woman?”

Sarah’s features creased into a fond, amused smile. “It is _Douglas_ we’re talking about, remember.”

“Even so. It’s just as possible it’s something like job satisfaction, or….” The brunette broke off and turned towards Carolyn, eyes simmering with curiosity. “Can you shed any light?”

“I’m afraid not.” Carolyn gave a careful shrug, though her throat burned as the lie passed readily from her lips. “From my point of view, he’s shown up and done his job. I can’t really comment on anything beyond that.”

“Well, I’d say it’s odds-on even,” Emily continued, holding fast. “I just wish I knew who she was and how to contact her.”

Helena made a sweeping gesture of dismissal. “It’s pie in the sky, Emily.”

“You see, I don’t think it is.”

“If there _was_ someone, she’d _be_ here, wouldn’t she?”

“Not if no-one knows how to get hold of her. Not if it’s all a big secret, for some reason.”

_Oh, God,_ Carolyn thought in panic, her eyes flickering between the two women as Douglas’ daughter strayed dangerously close to the truth. _I don’t know how much longer I can do this…and more to the point, would he actually **want** me to be doing it? Goodness knows why but I think he might in fact….that he might in fact want…._

“I just don’t think that’s likely.”

Emily’s brow had furrowed into a frown as Helena interrupted Carolyn’s reverie. “I’m not being funny, Helena…but as far as I know, you haven’t even _spoken_ to him in over a year, except through your solicitor.”

“But I do _know_ him, dear.” Helena’s tone was biting. “I was married to him for a long time.”

“Yes, you were. _Past_ tense.”

“Let me get this straight: you’re objecting to me going in to see your father on the basis that there might _possibly_ , _remotely_ be a woman somewhere who should get priority?”

Emily gave a forceful shake of her head. “I never said I had any objection to you seeing him. My problem is you throwing your weight around and deciding on an order of preference when _you_ were the one who left _him_ for somebody else, not the other way round.”

There was a sudden, tense silence as her words hung in the air. Helena’s porcelain complexion darkened, her voice dropping to a ferocious hiss as she spat back, “How _dare_ you. That’s absolutely none of your business.”

“He’s my _father_. You really think I wasn’t aware of how much you hurt him, despite every effort he made to keep it from me?”

“And I’m damn well sure I wasn’t the only one having an affair. So you can get down off your high horse and….”

“Excuse me.” Sarah cleared her throat in interruption and fixed Helena with a cold glare, though her voice remained soft. “I’d ask you _not_ to speak to my daughter like that.”

“Your daughter needs to learn some bloody manners, Sarah. What happened between me and her father is nothing whatsoever to do with her.”

“She hasn’t said anything that isn’t factually accurate, has she?”

Helena rolled her eyes. “Because of course all the facts are public knowledge.”

“Apparently not,” Emily interjected before her mother could speak further. “What’s all this about him also having an affair?”

“You’re the one who thinks he’s seeing someone.”

“Yes, _currently_ I think he is. Do you actually have any evidence for the rest of it?”

“No. But it’s no different from you not having any evidence either, is it?”

“Ladies, this really is getting you nowhere.” Carolyn raised a palm, ignoring the flare of guilt as it licked at her heart. “Can you not just all agree that, assuming there’s a positive outcome, Emily should naturally be the first person he sees?”

“Of _course_. We’ve already been through that.”

“With whomever she chooses to be with her at the time?”

Helena’s delicate jaw tightened in reflex. “Within reason.”

“Sarah’s her _mother_ , Helena. That seems completely within reason to me.”

“And who exactly are _you_ to comment, Carolyn? Why don’t you just go home and leave us to it, hm?”

Carolyn allowed the words to hang in the air before composing her reply, more determined than ever to resist the temptation to reveal the truth. “Do you actually have any idea how long I’ve known Douglas, Helena?”

“Oh, come on,” Helena scoffed. “You’re colleagues. That’s hardly comparable in any way, shape or form!”

“I’ll give you a clue: it’s at least as long as you have, if not longer.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is that just because I’ve never been _married_ to him does not preclude me from being _concerned_ about the insufferable idiot. And I fully intend to remain here until the bitter end, whichever way it happens to fall. Understood?”

“Well, that’s your prerogative. Just make sure _you_ understand that you don’t get a say in what happens here, or who gets to….”

“Oh, for God’s sake, shut up, Helena,” Emily snapped, her patience apparently splintering . “This is utterly ridiculous!”

“I’m just saying that….”

“I know what you’re saying, but you know what? He doesn’t love you anymore! He hasn’t done for a long time!”

“You really think that’s what this is all about? You _genuinely_ think that?!”

“I don’t know what else to think with how you’re behaving!”

“Well, as you so rightly pointed out, _I_ was the one who left _him_ ; why on earth would I be concerned with whether or not he still…?”

“Do you know something else, Helena?” Emily gave a sharp, irascible shake of her head. “I saw how he was when he was married to you….”

“You were a _child_ when he married me….”

“…and I can tell you _categorically_ that whoever he’s with now is making him immeasurably happier than you _ever_ did. How does that _feel_?”

Carolyn supressed an almost overwhelming instinct to gasp in shock, Emily’s words obliterating the defences she had carefully built against the truth of Douglas’ feelings. _My God_ , she pondered in disbelief as she watched the silent stand-off between former step-mother and step-daughter crackle with tension. _She’s cutting right to the heart of it all, and she has absolutely no idea who I am. That I’m apparently making him….That I make him…._ She gave a tiny sigh of self-directed frustration, annoyed that even in the privacy of her own thoughts she was unable to be entirely honest. _It’s impossible that he’s happier with me than he was with his wives_ , she told herself, even as the notion began to settle. _I refuse to tell him how I feel. I refuse to acknowledge who he is to me publically. I refuse to be drawn on what may or may not happen in the future….How can that possibly make him happy? And yet…and yet….Emily seems so damn perceptive that perhaps…perhaps…._

“That’s incredibly naïve, Emily,” Helena was saying, the bluntness of her tone slicing through Carolyn’s internal musings. “You’re only capable of viewing your father from a child’s perspective, and you….”

“Well, naïve or not, I know I’ve never seen him like this before; not with you, not with Mum….” The young woman grimaced and turned towards Sarah at her mother’s abrupt intake of breath. “Sorry, Mum, but it’s true.”

“And the truth hurts, love, unfortunately, even seventeen years down the line.” Sarah smiled in reassurance after a moment as she watched her daughter’s rueful expression intensify. “It’s fine, Ems, I’m a big girl. Go on.”

Emily snatched a quick breath and squeezed her mother’s hand. “So, really, whoever she is, she should _be_ here. Not only for Dad but also because I have a feeling she’d wipe the floor with you, Helena, and I for one would bloody well _love_ to see it.”

Carolyn dropped her gaze to conceal a sudden, wolfish grin at the notion, though she felt a grudging pang of remorse sneak beneath her radar as Helena flounced angrily away down the corridor.

“Well,” Sarah breathed after a few stunned moments, shaking her head with incredulity towards her daughter, who blew out an irate breath, “that might have been a _touch_ harsh, Emily.”

“Oh, Mum, you’re too nice. You always have been.”

“She’s under a lot of stress….”

“Aren’t we all?” Emily sighed again. “Her attitude is pathetic.”

“I still think perhaps you could have held your tongue. You were deliberately needling her about this hypothetical girlfriend.”

The young woman shrugged. “She needed to hear it. I’ve never seen Dad like he’s been in the past few months….”

“Even so.”

“Look,” Carolyn cut in before the discussion could escalate further. “Would you like me to go after her? Try to calm the waters, so to speak?”

“No.” Emily’s voice was firm. “It’s really not necessary, Carolyn.”

“I am, as she quite rightly pointed out, somewhat removed from all this and I….”

“Oh, good bloody riddance to her.” Emily gestured towards the other end of the corridor. “Come on, let’s go and see if Uncle Greg’s got any more news, shall we? He’s been in there a long time….”

Carolyn exchanged a wry glance with Sarah before the two older women followed in Emily’s wake, their shared sense of anticipation rising as they approached the coveted destination.

* * *

Gregory Richardson rubbed a hand across his weary eyes and sat back in his chair, gaze drifting across the prone form of his older brother as he lay motionless in the bed. It had been more than twenty four hours since the doctors had taken Douglas off the life-support machine, and they had been both intrigued and pleased by how well the injured man had managed to hold his own. Currently, he was breathing unaided and although still unconscious, the medical team had allowed a degree of cautious optimism for continued improvement. Greg had felt joy and relief cascade through his body now that the initial dire prognosis had been revised. There was even a sense of hopeful anticipation as he reached once more for his brother’s hand.

“Come on, you stubborn old sod,” he murmured, unable to prevent a small smile. “Everyone’s been waiting for bloody days for you to finally decide to wake up, bloody days.”

“It’s good that you’re talking to him,” a voice from behind his shoulder interjected. He felt himself startle, turning towards the source and acknowledging the apologetic expression of the young doctor. “Didn’t mean to make you jump.”

“God, no, it’s fine,” he assured her. “I think the adrenalin’s making us a bit like that, to be honest.”

“Well, that and the lack of sleep, of course. I can’t imagine any of you have exactly had a decent quota.”

“No. Not exactly.” Greg sighed, and glanced back towards his brother. “How’s he doing, Doctor Metcliffe?”

The younger woman gave an encouraging smile and nodded as her eyes scanned across the notes at the end of the bed. “His vital signs are quite frankly astonishing, given what he’s been through,” she said. “Of course, the injuries are extensive but now that he’s breathing on his own….I’d say the chances are good for a full regain of consciousness.”

“How long, do you think?”

“Well, it’s hard to say. It could be an hour, it could be a few days….It’s just a question of waiting it out and seeing what happens.”

Greg nodded his acknowledgement. “I understand. I’m just anxious to see that he’s….”

He shuddered to a halt, the words dying in his throat in disbelief as he became aware of a tiny movement from the bed. Douglas’ eyelids flickered in almost infinitesimal amounts as Gregory continued to watch in incredulous amazement, his hand gripping tightly to the clammy skin of his brother’s.

“Douglas?” Greg glanced up towards the doctor who took a step towards the bed and frowned in concentration. “Was that my imagination, Doctor, or did he…?”

“No, I saw it too. Definitely some ocular movement, and….”

Douglas drew a ragged breath, his eyes blinking with an increasing rapidity, and Greg rose in eagerness, his palm moving to his brother’s shoulder as he gave it a gentle shake.

“Douglas? Can you hear me?”

The doctor reached for her pocket torch and added her own voice. “Mr. Richardson? Do you think you could open your eyes?”

Douglas gave a low groan, every effort apparently focused on pulling himself away from the bleak unconscious world he had inhabited for the past five days. His eyes opened a miniscule amount before falling shut anew.

“Come on, Douglas!” Greg encouraged, with another desperate squeeze of his shoulder. “God knows why, but there are a lot of people counting on you opening your bloody eyes and re-joining the land of the living, so come _on_!”

The doctor stretched with the intention of shining the torch-light into Douglas’ eyes, her fingers moving to open his eyelids. Greg was unable to prevent a joyous burst of laughter as his brother batted her hand away, his eyes shuddering open and features contorting as his brain recoiled against the unfamiliar brightness of the room.

“Welcome back, you lazy bastard,” Greg greeted, his tone laconic though his smile was wide and enthusiastic. “You took your bloody time, didn’t you?”

Douglas inhaled with a quiet whimper of pain, forcing breath into agonised lungs, his voice rasping as he murmured in confusion, “Lyn?”

Greg frowned, sobering in an instant as he exchanged worried glances with the doctor. “No, Douglas, it’s Greg. You’ve been unconscious for almost five days, and you….”

Douglas grasped his brother’s hand, the younger man blinking in surprise at the determined force of his grip. “I need…to see….Lyn.”

Greg shook his head. “I don’t know who you mean, Douglas. I’m really sorry.”

“Just…get her. _Please_.”

With that, Douglas closed his eyes, the effort of maintaining consciousness seemingly overwhelming him. Greg shot a questioning look towards the doctor, who raised a reassuring palm.

“It’s entirely normal,” she told him calmly. “He’ll probably slip in and out as his brain and body continue to heal.”

“Good.” Greg nodded, shoulders slackening in relief, though he spread his fingers in a helpless shrug as he glanced back towards his brother. “I’ve got no idea who this ‘Lyn’ person is.”

“She’s not a relative?”

“No…and it’s not a name I’ve come across in his hodge-podge band of potential visitors this week either.”

“He seemed very insistent. It might be worth asking around and seeing if anyone can shed any light.”

“I’ll do it right now.” Greg gave another crisp nod. “Thank you, Doctor. Please come and get me if he wakes up again, even if only for a few seconds.”

“Of course I will.” Doctor Metcliffe’s features relaxed into an encouraging smile. “This really is a positive step, Mr. Richardson. A very positive step indeed.”

Greg returned her grin before turning on his heel and striding from the room, bursting through the door and into the expectant glare of the fraught group of people on the other side.

* * *

“Uncle Greg?” Emily’s dark eyes were wide with hopeful anticipation as she rose to her feet to greet him, her hand tightly held within her mother’s. “How’s he doing?”

“He woke up, Ems!” Gregory enthused with a jubilant smile, pulling both Emily and Sarah into a warm, forceful hug, absorbing his niece’s intense sob of relief into the breadth of his shoulder and supporting her trembling body. “Only for a few seconds, but he _fucking_ woke up!”

“Oh, God,” Emily exhaled with a shudder as she pulled away, her hand moving to cover her mouth, grateful for the strong arm of her mother as it wrapped around her waist. “Oh, my _God_.”

“I knew it,” Sarah intoned, her features lapsing into a broad smile as she squeezed her daughter closer. “I told you your dad was a cussed old bugger, didn’t I, love?”

“I’m going to kill him,” Emily choked out, tears spilling over onto her cheeks. “I’m going to bloody _kill_ him for putting us through all this…”

At Emily’s other side, Carolyn closed her eyes against the onslaught of emotion, the group’s laughter fading into insignificance against the relentless pounding inside her skull. The raw pressure in her throat was threatening to explode through her mouth in a scream of release but she swallowed in a stoic attempt to dampen her reaction, willing herself not to collapse as Helena stepped up beside her.

“What are the doctors saying?” the brunette was asking as the group began to settle once more. “Any idea on timescales now or…?”

Greg shook his head. “No. I mean, they’re hopeful this is the beginning of an upswing, that he’ll start to have greater periods of consciousness and lucidity, but….”

“ _Was_ he lucid, then?”

The younger Richardson brother exhaled heavily and ran his fingers through his greying hair. “Well, that’s just it: I can’t be sure.”

“Why?” Emily frowned in renewed concern. “What did he say?”

“It was more who he asked to see.”

“I don’t understand.”

Greg sighed again. “He kept asking for ‘Lyn’. It was the first thing out of his mouth, in fact.”

Helena interrupted with a sharp, “Who on earth is ‘Lyn’?”

“No idea.” Greg raised his voice to address the rest of the group. “Anybody else give me a clue? He was absolutely categorical that she was who he wanted, though perhaps he was hallucinating….”

_Oh, Douglas_. Carolyn felt the question repeat incessantly behind her eyes as she watched the now-familiar people around her exchange glances of confusion, their faces etched with bewilderment. _“He kept asking for ‘Lyn’.”…. “Anybody give me a clue…?” Oh, God, what do I do? What the hell do I do?_ The indecision was uncharacteristic and stifling. Carolyn tried to draw a centring breath, her heart attacking her ribcage as it viciously pounded, her turmoil swirling ever tighter within her chest. _“It was the first thing out of his mouth, in fact.”….He wants to see me. He wants to see **me**? And that was his first priority? Oh, Douglas, you complete cretin. You total and complete…._

She blinked from her distress as she found that Martin had caught her gaze, his features drawn in concern, pale eyes questioning her apparent consternation, and she gave a dismissive shake of her head. His expression shifted as he continued to hold her stare, the conversation being held by the rest of the group fading into oblivion as they regarded each other. Carolyn closed her eyes against the incredulous realisation settling across his face, the parting of his delicate lips in shock as the pieces fell abruptly into place.

_Oh, for pity’s sake_ , she reproved herself after several moments of free-falling panic, sheer force of will beginning to overcome the encroaching anxiety. _You are the CEO of a company you created from scratch. You have raised a child practically single-handedly. You are self-assured, confident and wise…so stop this ridiculous hesitancy and step up, you bloody coward. The cat’s near enough out of the bag anyway so open your bloody mouth. Do it. Now. For his own bizarre reasons, he seems to want you so consequences be damned…._

“It’s me,” she intoned, her voice barely above a whisper though her declaration was enough to stun the group into silence. “He means me.”

Greg was the first to recover after a stretch of oppressive quiet, breaking into the collective astonishment. “Are you sure? He didn’t….”

Carolyn gave a crisp nod, projecting a business-like calm though embarrassment was creeping up her back in a hot spike of discomfort. “Perfectly sure.”

“Carolyn….” Emily took a small step forward, her forehead marred with a frown as if her mind was struggling to process the information imparted. “Does this mean…? It’s _you_ he’s been…? Why didn’t you _say_ …?”

“Emily, please.” Carolyn raised an authoritative yet placating palm. “I’ll explain later but for now…I can assure you that it’s definitely me he’s asking for, alright?”

The young woman nodded, exchanging disbelieving glances with both her mother and Helena, and Carolyn stifled a sigh, drilling herself not to be concerned with their personal thoughts and judgements, her mind pre-empting their unspoken questions. _Yes, I’m older than he is. No, I’m not at all his type. Yes, I’m the last person you probably thought of when you wondered who he was seeing. No, it shouldn’t work…but somehow….somehow it does…._

Lifting her chin a fraction in defiance, she took a step towards the double doors, her body stumbling into familiar arms as Arthur moved to block her path, and she found herself pressed against his chest in an enthusiastic embrace. His instinctive warmth made her want to sob with gratitude, and she grasped at him before pulling away, the guilty throbbing in her chest intensifying at the brightness of his smile.

“Arthur…,” she began.

“Mum, you don’t have to say anything….”

“Oh, I do, Arthur. I do, without a doubt.”

“No, really. Skip just tried to explain but….I don’t know if I’ve got it right....” He looked suddenly aghast, his expression crumpling beneath the weight of his uncertainty. “ _Have_ I got it right, Mum?”

Carolyn smiled in fond sentimentality. “Well, I’m not a mind-reader, dear-heart…but, yes, I would imagine you’ve managed to grasp the finer points.”

Arthur beamed in apparent relief. “In that case I think it’s _brilliant_! I mean, I thought it was brilliant when I thought it was Herc, but this is even _better_ because Douglas is like….Well, he’s like my….”

“I _will_ explain. I promise you that.”

“Just tell him we’re thinking about him. And that we can’t wait to see him. And that I’m going to bake him the most amazing cake he’s ever seen when he gets out. And….”

She placed a gentle hand to her child’s cheek to calm the excited barrage. “I will, darling.”

His smile was ablaze with encouragement as he gripped her hand before stepping to the side to allow her to pass. Carolyn drew a fortifying breath, shunning the eyes she could feel boring into her back with determination as she stepped over the threshold and into the tense sterility of the unknown.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

The breath Carolyn drew upon laying eyes on him for the first time in more than five days was so fierce she could almost feel it lancing the lining of her lungs. There were wires tracking the length of his body, the machines they were attached to bleeping at intermittent intervals, and the skin of his torso was marred with sickeningly dark bruises and stained bandages. His eyes were closed, every line of his features in repose. She hesitated for a brief moment, wondering if perhaps Gregory had imagined Douglas’s wakefulness, so agonisingly still did he appear.

“Are you the ‘Lyn’ he’s been asking for?” a voice sounded from across the room, and Carolyn blinked, recognising the young Doctor. She forced herself to smile.

“Carolyn; yes.”

“I’m Doctor Metcliffe.” Her voice was comforting. “We’ve met briefly, haven’t we? You’ve been here for most of the week.”

“Indeed.”

“And are you Mr. Richardson’s…?” She broke off and raised a palm, seeming to read Carolyn’s closed expression in an instant. “I don’t mean to pry but…you do know you could have come in straight away if we’d known, don’t you?”

“I’m…aware of that fact, yes.”

“Well, regardless. You’re here now.” Doctor Metcliffe crooked a finger, her tone softening. “Come and sit with him, Carolyn.”

The older woman obeyed without further question, her heart thundering as she approached the bed, legs shaking as she sank into the chair beside it. Allowing her instincts to guide her, she found herself reaching for his hand, its familiar landscape making her chest ache as she ran her thumb gently across his skin.

“He’s doing remarkably well,” the doctor was saying. “Even in the few minutes since his brother left I’ve seen clear signs of recovering consciousness. I don’t think you’ll be waiting long.”

Carolyn nodded, though her attention was focussed on Douglas’ face. “And what about long-term, Doctor? Will he need further surgery, or…?”

“Let’s just take it one step at a time, alright?” The doctor gave her a reassuring smile as Carolyn nodded anew. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Give me a shout if you have any questions or concerns.”

Carolyn lips tightened into a smile as she watched the younger woman walk away, her gaze flickering at once back to Douglas, anxiety rippling through her stomach. _Oh God_ , she pondered morosely , running a weary hand across her face before folding her fingers about his again. _What the hell are we doing here, Douglas? I couldn’t even admit who I really am to you until my back was against a wall….I’m not even sure myself, for heaven’s sake….This has all been like a nightmare, a completely surreal and horrific nightmare…._

“Lyn?”

Carolyn’s head snapped up at the gravelled sound of her name, her heart almost stopping as she watched Douglas’ eyes flicker open. His gaze was unsteady as he attempted to concentrate on her face, and she grasped his hand tighter in encouragement.

“Douglas?” She managed after a moment, his name catching in her larynx and passing her lips in a choked sob.

“Lyn…,” he rasped again, his features furrowing in concentration as he tried and failed to sit up, disorientation written into every line. “Where…am I?”

“Hospital,” she replied, clearing her throat as she fought for equilibrium. “You were in a massive car accident almost a week ago.”

His intake of breath was sharp and ragged, his expression distorting as his brain seemed to catch up with the injuries wracking his body. “Hurts,” he whimpered hoarsely, dark eyes closing as he battled against deep, excruciating pain, his free hand gripping the crisp bed-sheet.

“It will,” she sympathised, her chest aching as she watched him fight the instinct to writhe in discomfort. “I’ll get the doctor to top up your pain-killers.”

“I’m tired, Lyn….”

“Then rest.” She brought his fingers to her mouth, pressing the gentlest of kisses to his skin. “I’ll be here.”

With that, his eyes fluttered closed once more and Carolyn released a pent-up breath into the stillness, weariness overwhelming her. She was unable to prevent her own eyes from drifting shut as she succumbed to the sudden, bone-deep exhaustion, her head falling onto the mattress next to the warm solace of his hand as she allowed herself to fall.

* * *

The sensation of a hand tenderly stroking her hair woke Carolyn from her fractious slumber, and she raised her head a few centimetres, wincing into the sterile brightness as she tried to focus on the familiar eyes smiling down at her.

“Hello,” he murmured, smile broadening as she straightened further and groaned in discomfort, one of her hands moving to caress the tense muscles of her neck.

“Hello, yourself,” she croaked in reply, blinking as she attempted to fully rouse herself, eyes narrowing as she appraised him. “How are you feeling?”

He gave a slight shrug, and then grimaced at the movement. “Like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

“Funny you should say that….”

“Yes. Doctor Metcliffe explained when she came to fill me again with narcotics.”

“Did she?”

He grinned. “While you were having your little snooze.”

She frowned at the amusement lacing his tone. “How long was I…?”

“A couple of hours, give or take.”

“Oh, for goodness sake,” she grumbled, embarrassment consuming her. “You should have woken me.”

“The doctor seemed to think you needed it. Can’t think why.”

Carolyn rolled her eyes. “Is this it, then? You’re resolutely back in the land of the living?”

“Apparently so.” He frowned, eyes awash with turmoil as the atmosphere between them sobered anew. “Why did Doctor Metcliffe have so much trouble finding you?”

Carolyn exhaled dismissively. “She didn’t. I’ve been here virtually non-stop since you….”

“Carolyn-my- _boss_ has been here, it would seem. According to the doctor, nobody knew about the rest of it.”

She sighed at the affliction underpinning his words. “What do you want me to say, Douglas?”

“I wouldn’t have expected a fanfare…but you might have mentioned it in passing….”

“Oh, yes? To each of your former wives, for instance? To your _daughter_?”

He shrugged one shoulder, flinching at the pain lancing through his body. “That would’ve been fine by me.”

“But not so fine by me. I told you before, I don’t…..” She broke off and blew out an irate breath. “This really isn’t the time or the place to be having this discussion, Douglas.”

“Isn’t it? I’m a captive audience, Lyn….”

“Yes, well. It’s lucky one of us has an escape route, then, isn’t it?” Carolyn frowned, the tensing of her muscles drawing her eyes closed for a brief moment before she forced herself to open them once more. “Douglas….”

“It’s fine.”

“Well, it’s not really, is it?” Her tone was resigned and flat, despondent self-loathing woven into it. “But I’m here now.”

“Yes, you are.”

“And everyone knows. So I hope you’re bloody happy.”

He grinned at her affected irritation, his features readily softening. “I’m alive, Lyn.”

“Hm.” She regarded him for a brief moment, unsure how much of her anxiety to reveal . “Emily’s been absolutely beside herself, just in case you were in any doubt.”

He held her gaze, seemingly undeterred by her attempts at deflection, the baritone she was so fond of mellowing as he asked, “And you?”

Carolyn felt her breath catch at the gentleness of his question, but she was unable to stop herself from slicing the air in dismissal. “Oh, _no_ ,” she replied sardonically. “It was like a little holiday camped out here for five days wondering if you were going to live or die.”

“Carolyn….”

“I think we should make it a semi-annual thing, in fact, with the exact date always a surprise to keep it as a real _treat_ ,” she continued with increasing ire. “Because you know, Douglas, I really do _thrive_ on adrenalin, anxiety and sleep deprivation.”

“Lyn.”

His quiet fortitude, the shape of the epithet in his mouth was enough to disarm her efforts at defensive anger. She inhaled in a shudder, grasping for his hand as he cupped her face with his palm.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, fingertips caressing her skin softly. She heaved another sob as she clawed for control in desperation.

“Don’t _ever_ do that to me again,” she snapped with force as she raised her head, eyes fierce with demand even as she battled to hold back the deluge, though a few rogue tears escaped their confines and tracked down her cheeks.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he replied sincerely, turning his hand to brush her cheek dry with the backs of his fingers, without further comment.

She gave a brief snort of laughter, covering his hand with her own and pressing her lips to his palm, unwilling to dwell too deeply on their actions and the reasons underpinning them, content to relax back into the pleasant pressure of his touch.

“I’ll go and get Emily,” she said after several moments had passed, guilt crackling through her at the reluctance she was unable to keep from her voice.

He gave a small nod and withdrew his hand slowly, his disinclination appearing to match her own, and she berated herself for the folly of missing his warmth. Rising to her feet and permitting a slight smile in his direction, she walked back towards the door.

* * *

Emily was out of her chair as soon as Carolyn stepped across the threshold, striding deliberately in the younger woman’s direction. She ignored the stares of the remainder of the group, the questions they murmured in heated breaths.

“How’s he doing?” Emily asked abruptly as Carolyn reached her side, eyes shimmering with concern. “You were gone ages. I was worried that….”

“He’s fine,” Carolyn reassured her, determined not to fuel the awkwardness that had arisen between them. “He wants to see you.”

“Does he?”

“Of course he does. He’s drugged up to the eyeballs with painkillers but he’s fairly coherent.” She raised an eyebrow. “As coherent as he ever is, at any rate.”

Emily smiled, her worried frown dissolving into the smooth skin of her forehead. “Bloody idiot. I’ve got a good mind to brain him myself.”

“Join the queue.”

The younger woman hesitated for a moment before laying a tentative hand on Carolyn’s arm. “Why didn’t you _say_ something, Carolyn? You had so many opportunities….”

“I know.”

“I just don’t understand it. Why all the secrecy?”

“Not secrecy,” Carolyn corrected with a sigh. “Privacy.”

“ _Privacy_?” Emily’s expression was askance, her mouth falling open in disbelief as she repeated the admission. “We thought he was _dying_ , for God’s sake.”

Carolyn drew a long breath. “It’s not a straightforward thing I can give you an answer to, Emily.”

“I presume all this wasn’t Dad’s idea.”

“Correct.”

“So what you’re basically saying is….you’d rather preserve the cloak-and-dagger than be there for him when he could’ve been in his final hours.”

Carolyn allowed the accusation to settle into the space between them, the jagged edge to Emily’s voice piercing beneath her skin as she paused, internally debating the extent of her honesty. “Things are so rarely as black and white as that, Emily. Sometimes in one’s life, you make decisions that you--”

“Don’t give me that,” Emily dismissed with increasing ire, her hand rising in protest. “You’re either with him or you’re not.”

“I think we’ve established what the truth is now, don’t you?”

“…and if you _are_ , you should damn well have had the guts to say so, irrespective of anyone else’s opinion.”

“It’s not about anyone else’s opinion.”

“So what _is_ it about, then?” 

Carolyn released a soft exhalation. “It’s about maintaining control over a very personal aspect of my life.”

“But it’s not just _your_ life, is it?” Emily’s frown was thoughtful as she regarded the older woman. “Particularly if, as I’m presuming, it’s not some sort of short-term fling?”

“Of course it isn’t.”

“So it’s about fear, then. Or selfishness, one of the two.”

Carolyn supressed a flinch at Emily’s astuteness but she made herself maintain eye contact. “Selfishness isn’t a trait I’d readily admit to,” she admitted several moments later, ordinarily biting tones softening to a reluctant murmur. “Alright?”

Emily held her gaze, the unspoken confession healing some of the fractures between them. “Alright.”

“But I reserve the right not to get into the bones of it,” Carolyn rallied with determination. “I meant what I said, Emily: it’s _deeply_ personal, and….”

“And it’s between you and Dad. I know that.”

“Good.”

“I just…,” the brunette faltered anew and ran a hand through her tresses. “I just don’t get how you didn’t _want_ to be in there with him….”

“It wasn’t a question of not _wanting_ to….”

“Because from what I’ve observed of him these last few months….he bloody _loves_ you, Carolyn.” Emily’s ferocity was almost palpable. “You do know that, don’t you?”

“I…,” Carolyn hesitated, her reply cloying in her throat as her mind tumbled through all of the possibilities and their implications. “As I said, Emily: deeply personal.”

Emily rolled her eyes as she tutted her disapproval. “Hopeless.”

“Be that as it may,” Carolyn’s voice was renewed with its usual forceful potency, clearing her throat in a pointed cough. “Are you going in to see your father or not?”

“I am,” was the mild reply, and Carolyn found herself being pulled into delicate arms, soft lips brushing against her cheek before Emily retreated once more to address her. “Sort it out, for Christ’s sake, Carolyn. Neither of you are getting any younger.”

Carolyn felt her mouth fall open, her brain too sluggish with sleep-deprivation to form an appropriate riposte. She could only watch as Emily gave a wide grin, forgiveness and acceptance radiating from her in glorious waves, before she disappeared joyfully into the ward.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Carolyn felt her legs begin to tremble and she sank heavily onto a waiting chair, her thoughts a haphazard jumble as she pondered the conversation with Douglas’ daughter. _She doesn’t understand how I could do that to her father. How I could allow my own cowardice to dominate my concern for him._ She exhaled deeply, self-loathing prickling the length of her spine. _I wish I could tell myself she’s wrong. But the brutal truth is that fear was what stopped me from admitting to him…from admitting to all and sundry…that I….That he makes me feel…._

“Carolyn?”

The fog of her pained introspection was broken by the sound of her name being barked. She steeled herself at the sight of Helena bearing down upon her, the brunette’s features pinched in a tight scowl. Carolyn sucked in a fortifying breath and rose to her feet, mentally squaring her shoulders as she gave the other woman a curt, “Can I help you, Helena?”

The reply was rapid and intense. “How’s Douglas?”

“Much improved.”

“Well, that’s a relief, at least.”

“Indeed. I’m sure you’ll be able to go in and see him yourself once Emily’s finished.”

“Hm.”

Carolyn narrowed her eyes at the clipped reticence and she raised her chin in silent challenge. “Was there something else?”

Helena flushed and took a small step towards her, voice dropping to a quieter register. “He calls you ‘Lyn’.”

Carolyn felt her jaw tighten though she maintained a calm and steady tone. “Yes, he does. When he feels like it.”

“Please tell me you’re not going to insult my intelligence by pretending it’s just in _friendship_.”

“I think things have gone rather beyond that point, don’t you?”

Helena drew a sharp breath, righteous anger colouring her words. “Alright, then, answer me this: how long were you sleeping with my husband whilst I was still married to him?”

Carolyn raised an eyebrow, ignoring the significant quickening of her pulse. “You’re not _really_ going to try and take the moral high ground, are you?”

“How dare you….”

“Because I rather think that horse has bolted, somewhat.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’, then, shall I?”

The older woman gave a brisk shake of her head. “I don’t have to defend myself, Helena; to you or anybody else.”

“For God’s sake, he divorced me on the grounds of _my_ infidelity….”

“Something which you never contested, as far as I’m aware.”

“But if I’d known…that he was….”

“What difference would it have made?”

“It’s the _principle_ of the thing,” Helena spluttered with indignation. “I was made out to be some scarlet woman, who….”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake….”

“Whereas the truth was that he was just as guilty as I was.”

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself.”

“I knew he was seeing someone. I bloody _knew_ it.”

“You knew absolutely nothing of the sort,” Carolyn bit back in reply, frustration arcing hotly in her gut. “You’re imagining a version of events that lets you assuage your own guilt….”

“Are you denying it, then?”

“Denying what?”

“That you were _embroiled_ in a pathetic affair with my husband…?”

“Concurrent to your own, you mean?”

Helena barked a bitter laugh. “Did he tell you I was the one being unfaithful? Was that the line he spun you to get you into bed?”

“Do I seem like the type of woman to be taken in by something so readily transparent as that?” Carolyn’s response was unruffled and dry, confident in the facts she knew to be true. “Think _very_ carefully before you answer.”

Helena rolled her eyes and continued undeterred. “Because of course you _do_ realise it was a pity-fuck, don’t you? That he was hard-up and looking for an easy target?”

“Oh, the _poor_ old boy,” Carolyn’s tone was saturated with sarcasm, eyes hardening to flint as she parried against the attempt to rile her. “What a shame he _exhausted_ all of his other options before coming to me.”

“Well, he must have done, clearly. You’re _anything_ but his type.”

The older woman sighed, ignoring the deliberate barb and the resultant twist of pain in her chest, her insecurities writhing darkly at the edges of her consciousness. “This is absurd, Helena. You’ve been divorced for more than a year.”

“You’re missing the point.”

“I understand the point completely,” Carolyn replied with forced serenity as she raised a palm. “But the more salient one surely is that you’ve moved on with your life. Just as he’s moved on with his.”

Helena shook her head. “It’s not a question of not moving on. I just don’t like to be made a fool of.”

“No-one was making a fool of you; least of all Douglas.”

“He was if he was sharing your bed whilst still sharing mine. It’s not like he doesn’t have history.”

“That’s not in dispute,” Carolyn replied, supressing a tempting instinct to roll her eyes, “but his past is nothing to do with either of us, is it?”

Helena sighed and folded her arms as she appraised Carolyn for a long moment of strained silence. “Is it serious?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“This _relationship_ you’re obviously too ashamed of to be honest about?” 

“And exactly _what_ has that got to do with you?”

The younger woman feigned a casual shrug, though her words were glacial. “Well, given that I was still listed as his next-of-kin….I would have thought, if you and he were _significant_ , he might have made a change, wouldn’t you?”

“I’ll put it to you again, Helena: how on earth is it any of your business?”

“Because _I’m_ the one who got the phone call in the middle of the night when they thought he was dying. _I’m_ the one who was assumed to be his partner, and….”

“But clearly you don’t want to be his _partner_ any more, do you?” Carolyn dragged her voice across the descriptor with derision, and then blinked. “Or _do_ you, and that’s what all this nonsense is about?”

“Of course not.”

“There we are, then: case closed.”

“It most certainly isn’t. If I can prove that he was….that you were….then that divorce settlement…..”

“Oh, what absolute rot.” Carolyn’s snort of laughter was incredulous. “In the first instance you can’t, and will never be _able_ to, prove anything; and in the second…there’s no such thing as retrospective divorce.” 

“He should have treated me better. He should have….”

“It cuts both ways, Helena.”

“He was the one that drove _me_ away!”

“You made a choice as a consenting adult,” Carolyn retorted. “If you’re having difficulties _dealing_ with said choice, that’s not his problem, and moreover it’s most _definitely_ not mine.”

“I…I…,” Helena spluttered, and Carolyn sensed the advantage, taking a step towards her, the younger woman’s superior height doing nothing to diminish her determination.

“Walk away, Helena,” she told her, tone firm yet gentle. “Go back to your settled life and don’t give any of this another thought.”

Helena’s mouth fell open. “I still _care_ about him, you know. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t?”

“Well, if you do then you’ll leave. Surely you can see that?”

“Are you threatening me, Carolyn?”

Carolyn permitted herself an exasperated eye-roll. “Melodrama at its finest. I’m simply _advising_ you of a sensible course of action.”

“I want to know the truth. I think I’m entitled to that at the very least.”

“Why?”

“Because he was my husband for _fourteen_ years.”

“And that’s commendable, but he’s not _now_ , is the whole point. You have no claim over him whatsoever anymore.”

Helena sniffed and inclined her head in a tiny gesture of concession as her voice dropped to a strained whisper. “He was laughing at me behind my back; and I have no idea for how long.”

“I can assure you he was doing nothing of the sort.” Carolyn lowered her voice, dismissing the warning from her subconscious as she murmured, “Do you really not have _any_ idea how hurt he was when your affair came to light?”

“I was miserable…and I thought….I thought he was seeing someone….”

“So you thought you’d even the score?” Carolyn shook her head and spread her hands magnanimously. “Look, cards on the table: I have never had an affair in my life; not with Douglas, not with anyone.”

“You…what?”

“Alright?”

“Then you _weren’t_ …?”

“Let’s just leave it at that, shall we?” Carolyn sighed, Helena’s perpetual swing between distress and condemnation beginning to exhaust her. “I think it might be time both of us took a break from this conversation. There’s really nothing more left to be said.”

Helena gave a silent nod of bewilderment and took a step backwards, and Carolyn was surprised to feel a hand in the small of her back as they parted, unaware that anyone had moved to stand beside her. She blinked as she acknowledged Martin’s worried gaze, her vision starting to blur as the tension of the previous few minutes caught up with her in a rush. She allowed him to steer her away though forced herself to move away as they approached the chairs.

“Sit down, Carolyn,” he commanded with unusual grit. “Let me get you some tea and….”

“No,” she countered, her expression softening as she felt Arthur squeeze her shoulders from behind. “I need some air.”

“The café has a sort of outdoor courtyard thing….”

“Fine.”

Without speaking further, the three remaining members of MJN Air struck a solemn procession down the corridor, Carolyn’s heart swelling with warmth at the protective flanking of the young men as the distance away from Douglas slowly increased.

* * *

“Here.”

Carolyn looked up as Martin approached the table, feeling her features crease into a slight smile as he pressed a mug into her palms before taking a seat opposite her and sipping from his own cup. She was grateful to him, and to Arthur at her side, for allowing her several further moments of silence and composure, neither seeming willing to push her into premature conversation, then took a long fortifying draw from her tea in preparation.

“Look,” she began eventually, sitting forward to set the warm mug onto the slatted wooden table. “You can take it as a given that I won’t say this again…but I’m…sorry this is the way both of you had to find out; alright?”

Arthur’s hand had found her shoulder blades. “You don’t have to be sorry, Mum; does she, Skip?”

“Of course not.” Martin frowned in thought. “Though it doesn’t really make sense why neither of you said anything before….”

“It’s private, Martin.”

“I know, but…we see each other virtually day in, day out….”

“And don’t you think maybe _that’s_ why? The continued success, limited as it is, of MJN is absolutely paramount to me.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Because personal…associations can make for difficult working conditions, especially in an outfit as small as ours.”

“But we’re a _family_ , Mum,” Arthur protested with intensity. “So long as you’re happy, we’re happy.”

“And that’s generous, dear-heart. But unfortunately things are rarely as straightforward as all that.”

“Why?”

“Well, for one thing…,” she broke off with a sigh before forcing herself to continue. “ _Technically_ Douglas was still married when he…when we….”

“Oh.”

“I mean, obviously he was separated, but….”

“Well, we wouldn’t have judged you, if that’s what you’re worrying about.” Arthur’s hazel eyes were brimming with sincerity. “I know you think I don’t know about these things…but I know they happen, Mum. That sometimes they just _do_ , even if people don’t mean them to.”

“Arthur….”

“And I know you’ve always cared about Douglas, that he’s always been your friend. And that people can fall in love in funny ways.”

Carolyn felt herself flush, the truth of her son’s words penetrating the defences of her heart. “No-one said anything _remotely_ along those lines, Arthur.”

“It must be quite serious, though,” Martin insisted, the words apparently issuing forth from his mouth before he could think them through. “I mean, you’ve been together for more than a year. You carried on seeing each other after I….”

“A year?” Arthur repeated, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

Martin stumbled, and Carolyn felt her heart lurch. “Well…I….I mean, if it happened before Douglas’ divorce….If…if…..”

“Hang on. Did you _know_ , Skip?” At Martin’s embarrassed silence, Arthur turned towards Carolyn in expectation. “Mum?”

She sighed, a sense of fatalism creeping into her chest, and she turned to look at her son. “You mustn’t think that I told him above telling you, Arthur. It was simply happenstance.”

“What do you mean?”

“She means I discovered it for myself without meaning to,” Martin replied reluctantly.

“How?”

He grimaced, blushing almost to the roots of his hair. “Trust me, you really, really don’t want to know.”

“Oh.” Arthur’s eyes widened to saucers as he apparently caught the other man’s meaning. “ _Oh_.”

“Yes, _thank_ you, Martin.” Carolyn’s tone was sharp and authoritative to counter the mortification prickling up her spine. “That will more than do.”

“So, you _did_ just carry on seeing each other, then?” Martin interjected before Arthur could reply. “And all that supposed stuff with Herc was just a smokescreen?”

Carolyn’s stare was brittle. “It was… _convenient_.”

“Poor Herc, though.”

“Oh, ‘poor Herc’; nothing.” Carolyn gave a snort at her son’s words, though she was unable to prevent a spark of pride at his compassion. “He had no idea about any of it until the two of you decided to intervene.”

“To be fair, Carolyn,” Martin muttered, “we had no idea either. I genuinely thought you and Herc were….”

“We were just trying to be helpful,” Arthur added, and she patted his knee in gentle commiseration, regret slicing through her.

“I know, dear-heart,” she intoned softly. “And I’m grateful; truly.”

“But we made things worse, didn’t we?” 

She patted his leg again. “Of _course_ you didn’t. It was…good to see Herc, as it happens.”

“Even though you were never going out with him.”

“Even, then.”

They lapsed into a lengthy silence, each of them an island of reflection before Arthur spoke again. “So what happens now?”

Carolyn shrugged. “Well, I imagine he’ll be in hospital for quite a while, and then there’ll be….”

“No, I meant: is he moving into our house or are you moving into his?”

“Arthur!”

Arthur held up two palms in defence. “I was only asking!”

“Well, _don’t_ ,” she told him firmly and then sighed, uncertainty shifting once more beneath her skin. “I can’t make any sort of promises about the future, alright? Let’s just deal with one crisis at a time and see where we go from there.”

“Anything’s fine with me, Mum. Anything and everything.” He smiled with the easy, genuine warmth that was so typical of his character. “Just so long as you’re happy.”

Carolyn drew a shuddering breath and choked back a sob, unable to reply past the intense pressure in her throat. She reached for his hand, squeezing it with a ferocity that made him chuckle before he pulled her against him to kiss the side of her head.

“Sorry to interrupt….”

Carolyn disengaged from her son at the sound of the familiar voice, and blinked into the rueful face of Emily as the younger woman approached the table, a slight awkwardness written into her countenance.

“Not at all, Emily,” 

Emily demurred with a slight shake of her head as Martin stood to proffer his seat, her attention focussed almost entirely on Carolyn. “I had a feeling you might be out here.”

“Did you?”

Emily shrugged and raised an eyebrow. “Helena’s in a bit of a state.”

“Ah.”

“So I thought perhaps you needed some space.”

“Indeed.” Carolyn’s smile was wry. “There may have been…one or two words exchanged.”

“I’m sure she got what was coming to her.”

“Well….”

“Anyway, leaving that aside; when you feel ready, would you come back inside with me?”

Carolyn felt a tiny flicker of panic resume in her chest though forced her tone to remain calm. “Everything alright?”

“Oh God, sorry; Dad’s fine,” Emily breathed earnestly, her face breaking into a wide smile of reassurance. “The doctors just want to discuss the next phase of his treatment. I thought you’d want to be involved.”

Carolyn felt gratitude wash over her at the younger woman’s compassionate sensitivity. “That’s very thoughtful, Emily. Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it. You’re the one who’ll have to deal with all his grumbling and complaining about it, after all.”

Carolyn gave a soft chuckle and rose to her feet, rolling her eyes towards Martin and Arthur before following in Emily’s wake, surprised to feel her heart lightening with every step she took. _Perhaps this really will be alright after all_ , she mused in tentative optimism as she watched the now-relaxed posture of the woman’s gait in front of her, the warm atmosphere she was leaving between her pilot and her son. _Just perhaps…._

TBC


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we are - the final installment! If you've made it this far, then thank you very much, and you're a better man than I am, Gunga Din ;) Seriously, I really do appreciate you reading *any* of it (especially if the 'ship isn't normally your bag) but if you've read *all* of it then I'm genuinely indebted to you - thank you very, very much, and please do let me know what you think x

_12 weeks later…._

Carolyn rolled onto her back with a deep sigh, relinquishing any hope she had at returning to sleep, and staring at the ceiling in the murky grey of the early morning light. It was more than seven hours until she was needed at the airfield, more than eight until GERT-I was scheduled for take-off, and yet slumber was elusive with her mind so unsettled. _Still_ , she mused darkly as she adjusted the pillow and pulled the duvet closer. _I suppose it’s nothing new_. In the three months since Douglas’ accident she had managed only fitful sleep each night, her dreams haunted by horrors which snapped her awake drenched in icy sweat, panic ensnaring her until she felt the reassuring weight of him beside her. She would then be awash with grateful relief, comforted by his warmth, by the undeniable reality of his solid chest rising and falling close to her.

She had been terrified, she could admit that now. Terrified that he would succumb to his injuries, terrified about admitting the depth of her feelings. Terror had dominated the hours, days and weeks following his hospitalisation, and terror still woke her when she was most vulnerable. Its residue had become intertwined with intense anxiety, and now in the muted darkness anxiety was the more dominant sensation, her mind leaping into the day ahead.

The doctors had been sufficiently impressed with his recovery to sign him back to work, at least on an initial part-time basis, and this would be his first flight back in control. It was a short-haul, she had been adamant about that despite his protests, but even the prospect of such a simple journey was troubling her. He had worked hard at his rehabilitation, she knew, and she trusted his judgement without question. She was simply concerned that he was trying to move too fast, too soon for his still fragile body. _If he’s struggling I’m not sure that he’d tell me_ , she pondered with a frown. _Proud, stubborn, pain in the…._

“You’re thinking too loudly,” he muttered with a groan, and she tutted her disapproval even as he shifted towards her, his arm heavy with sleep as it wrapped itself about her waist.

“Nothing else to do at this ungodly hour of the day,” she retorted, stifling a sigh as he squeezed her body closer to his. “Go back to sleep.”

“Is there any point? What time is it?”

“No idea. Too bloody early, would be my best guess.”

“Oh, good,” he yawned. “Specific as ever.”

“Shut up and do as you’re told, idiot.”

He chuckled, his breath warm against her neck. “Barks the mighty alpha dog.”

“Well, do it before the bark becomes a bite.”

“Is that a promise?”

She elbowed him in the ribs, his resultant laughter flooding her heart with warmth, and she was gratified as he pressed a series of soft kisses to her neck before feeling his breathing even out once more as he relaxed back into unconsciousness. With a concentrated effort she matched her inhalations to his own, the soporific movements of his broad chest, the soothing feel of his fingertips against her stomach lulling her back under the blissful wing of slumber as the last vestiges of her control slipped away.

* * *

Carolyn busied herself making tea, fingers automatically switching on the kettle and reaching for a mug, determined not to notice the dapper man at the other end of the breakfast bar, nonchalance written into every line of his posture as he sipped coffee and read the morning paper. If he was nervous about the upcoming flight he was concealing it well, she mused, wondering whether she felt more proud or infuriated by his apparent lackadaisical attitude, her heart skipping into her throat as she risked a glance towards him. His pale blue shirt was familiar and crisp, though it felt like an eternity since she had last seen it on his frame, top few buttons still undone before the rigours of the day could begin. His trousers were a fraction looser than she remembered, a result of both weight loss and muscle wastage, but overall he looked little different, his appearance belaying the trauma of the previous few months. He finished his drink and rose to his feet with a slight grimace of pain, her stomach lurching at the ever-present reminder of the injuries that had very nearly taken his life.

He traced the curves of her waist with his palms, and she sighed, the easy intimacy sparking complicated ripples through her body and heart.

“You’ve been appraising me all morning, my love,” he accused with a sly grin. “Will I do?”

She made a show of smoothing the front of his shirt, of brushing imaginary lint from his broad shoulders. “After a fashion.”

“A ringing endorsement indeed.”

“It’s as good as you’re ever going to get, as well you know.”

“And there’s me thinking you have a certain penchant for a man in uniform.”

Carolyn clicked her tongue in ready dismissal. “As long as you’re _vaguely_ presentable, whether or not you can competently fly my aeroplane is of more immediate concern.”

He bent to kiss her mouth, a gentle balm to the anxiety she was concealing in ire. “I’m fine, Lyn.”

“You had _better_ be fine, Douglas; believe you, me.”

“I’m completely air-worthy. Funnily enough that’s what the _medical_ professionals think too.”

She glared at him through narrowed eyes. “I won’t have _any_ hesitation in reducing your hours if you’re not up to it, you know. You can’t expect any special treatment.”

“Oh, perish the thought.”

“I’m serious.”

“Carolyn.” He exhaled her name with gravelled ferocity before kissing her again. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t think I was up to it.”

“Oh, of course you would,” she shot back with a savage bite. “Just remember who you’re talking to, you arrogant pilot.”

“I wouldn’t do it with _you_ on the aircraft, is my point….”

“For goodness sake! That’s neither here nor there!”

“…If I had any doubts whatsoever about my abilities; alright?”

She held his gaze in challenge for long moment before losing the impetus to continue, allowing her forehead to drop to his chest, his arms to encircle her. “You,” she told him, cutting tone muffled against the soft cotton of his shirt, “are a ridiculous, _soppy_ excuse for a pilot who….”

“I am,” he agreed mildly, pressing a tender kiss to the top of her head. “Now, are you making the toast or am I?”

* * *

A sharp tapping startled Carolyn mid-bite and she raised questioning eyebrows at Douglas now supine on the sofa, soft strains of an aria she still could not remember the name of drifting from the radio at his side. He shrugged in reply, and she padded across to the hallway, opening the door to reveal a sheepish-looking Martin and an over-excited Arthur.

“Hi, Mum!” her son effused, stepping across the threshold and kissing her before she could draw breath to invite him. “Thought we’d come over and surprise you!”

“Well, you certainly did that,” she replied in dry riposte. “Good morning, dear-heart.”

“Skip picked me up, didn’t you, Skip? He thought it might be nice for us all to go in together for Douglas’ first time back.”

“Did he indeed?” Carolyn quirked an eyebrow towards Martin, who coloured beneath the weight of her stare, skin flooding with discomfort.

“I….I just thought it would be one less thing for him…and you, to have to think about.”

“Hm,” she intoned in undisguised disdain and rolled her eyes, though felt herself relent. “Well, you’re here now. Go on through and I’ll put the kettle on.”

She followed him into the spacious lounge-diner, where Arthur had already ventured, and she was amused to find Douglas on the receiving end of an enthusiastic hug, his large hands moving in awkward circles on her son’s back as he caught her eye atop his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hug you,” Martin was saying as Arthur released Douglas with a jubilant grin, though he approached his First Officer with an outstretched hand, which the older man accepted. “How are you feeling?”

“Mostly fine,” Douglas replied, gesturing to his colleagues to take a seat on the couch and chair. “More than ready to get back to the fray.”

“Well, it should be a nice, easy flight,” Martin said, removing his pristine hat and placing it with care at his side. “Weather looks settled, and the flight time’s barely two hours so….”

“You do know she’s very much erring on the side of caution, don’t you?” Douglas said _sotto voce_ , inclining his head towards the kitchen where Carolyn had disappeared anew. “I’d be perfectly capable of a long-haul….”

“Well, of course she is,” Martin replied, aghast. “There’s no sense in pushing too hard too fast, Douglas, not after everything you’ve….”

“Rubbish,” the older man scoffed. “I’m as right as rain, and she damn well knows it.”

“Even so.”

“Well, I think you’ll do _brilliantly_ ,” Arthur enthused. “So long as you’re back with us, Douglas, it doesn’t really matter how long the trip is, does it?”

Douglas gave a slight shrug of concession. “That’s one point of view.”

“Mum just doesn’t want you over-doing it.”

“And neither do the doctors, let’s not forget,” Carolyn called from the doorway, ducking back into the kitchen before reappearing with four cups atop a tray. “So shut up and stop making me out to be the big, bad wolf in all this, Douglas.”

“Yes,” he drawled, the word drawn out with characteristic sarcasm as he moved his legs to let her past. “Because as we all know that would be _grossly_ unfair and defamatory.”

She tapped him on the shin with her toe in reproach, causing Martin and Arthur to chuckle, before settling at his side and distributing hot, strong tea. “Right, well, since we’re all here I might as well do the briefing,” she announced after a short moment of repose, sipping from her steaming mug before taking a breath to speak, then scowling when Arthur beat her to it.

“Before you do, Mum, I just want to say…well, I’m _really_ glad you’re better, Douglas, and that you’re….”

“He is not ‘better’, Arthur, by any stretch of the imagination,” Carolyn corrected with a pointed stare at the subject in question, who blew out his breath. “He is in _recovery_ ; limited to light duties and only then at _my_ sole discretion as his boss.”

“I’m absolutely _fine_ , Arthur,” Douglas cut in, though his attention was focussed on Carolyn. “ _Do_ carry on.”

“Yeah.” Arthur glanced between his colleague and his mother, hesitating for an uncertain moment before continuing. “Well, I was just going to say: welcome back, Douglas. We’ve really missed you.”

“ _Thank_ you, Arthur.”

“So, _so_ much. I mean, Herc’s been great filling in when he can but he’s….Well, he’s not you; is he, Skip?”

Douglas turned towards Martin, eyes twinkling in teasing expectation. “Is that so, Captain?”

“Definitely.” Martin’s tone was one of jocular rebuttal. “Herc is much more respectful of the chain of command, for one thing.”

“Is he _really_? Even though you’re both Captains?”

“In _my_ flight-deck.”

“Oh, of course. How silly of me.”

“Plus he’s a vegetarian, so I get limitless access to the cheese tray.”

“ _Obviously_ secondary to me,” Carolyn added with a wolfish grin.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Arthur continued, raising his mug in a toast. “I can’t wait for us all to be together again. It hasn’t been the same without you.”

Douglas’ features creased in a genuine smile. “It’s kind of you, Arthur. Thanks.”

Carolyn cleared her throat after allowing a moment for the mood to settle anew. “Yes, well. Sickly sentimentality aside, would the three of you do me the courtesy of actually _allowing_ me to do this briefing so that we’re at least _vaguely_ prepared for this trip?”

She found herself awash with warmth as their muttered protests quietened within seconds, forcing herself to continue speaking and ignoring the unbridled joy at the reality of MJN’s reunification, at the feel of Douglas’ thigh pressed deliberately flush to hers.

* * *

“Martin?”

Carolyn’s soft soprano bade him to linger in the doorway as Arthur and Douglas stepped into the car, their attention drawn by their own conversation, by the rise and fall of their light-hearted exchange. Martin obeyed without question, features drawn in a curious frown.

“I need you to do something for me, and I need you to keep it absolutely to yourself; understood?”

The captain gave a serious nod. “What?”

“If Douglas…,” she faltered, the words disappearing into a sigh, and she chastised herself for the uncharacteristic hesitancy. “If he seems even _remotely_ like he’s not handling it, if he shows even the slightest sign of not being truly air-worthy….”

“I’ll take control.”

She gave a curt nod of approval at the speed of his uptake. “You damn well make sure that you do; snide put-downs or glib reassurances notwithstanding.”

“Of course I will.”

“Because he’ll try and make out that he’s okay, even if he’s not.” She took a tiny, meaningful step towards him, cobalt eyes intense. “I need you to guarantee me that you won’t be brow-beaten.”

Martin raised his chin in determination. “I won’t be. Not when it comes to something as vital as safety.” His tone was almost boyish in its earnestness, and Carolyn had to fight a strong maternal instinct to embrace him. “I’ll look after him, Carolyn. You have my word on that.”

“Good,” she replied in a clipped monosyllable after holding his gaze for an elongated moment. “See that you do.”

With that she gestured for him to precede her from the house, pausing for a moment to lock the door of the home that was now jointly hers, her heart threatening to explode through her chest with unbridled happiness. _He’s really here_ , she mused with a renewed, rapturous jolt of reality as she caught sight of Douglas through the car windscreen. _He’s here, he’s alive…and God knows how but it looks like he’s mine._ The thought was enough to sustain her as she stepped away from their house and towards the inviting prospect of their shared future. 

FIN


End file.
